


Yuuri Katsuki's tips for raising a vampire

by mr_dr_felicia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blowjobs, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Kinda, M/M, Wounds, adoption au, author!viktor, handjobs, modern vampire au, salaryman!yuuri, species prejudice, vampires live alongside humans, victuri big bang 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_dr_felicia/pseuds/mr_dr_felicia
Summary: Tip#37: If all else fails, get an extra pint of blood.orYuuri Katsuki adopts a vampire, inadvertently entering the small and seemingly hidden world of Yuri Plisetsky's kind. To guide him with raising Yurio is the vampire Viktor Nikiforov, an enigmatic and closed-off author that hasn't written anything since his debut five years ago.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> this has been so long in the making and yet the last chapter is still being written! i wanted to try challenging myself to finish a multi-chapter work, and what better way than through a bang?  
> so much thanks to @pochayuuris, they've been amazing and i think their art really captures the mood of this fic!

_October_

_It’s getting a bit colder at night, the thin blanket unable to keep Yuri warm. So he gets up to get a thicker one, preferably one of the feather quilts_ babulya _was said to have made. His socked feet make little to no sound as he walks across the hall to where_ Ded’s _small room is, the sliding door silent as Yuri pushes it open._

 _The quilt is stored on the highest shelf of_ Ded’s _closet, and no matter how much Yuri jumps or tiptoes he could not reach it, the edge of the feathery quilt looking so far away from his grasping fingers. Yuri huffs, flicking his growing fringe out of his face._

 _“_ Deduskha _?” He whispers, facing_ Ded’s bed _. But he isn’t there._

 _Yuri remembers that_ Ded _had work that day, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He marches himself to his grandfather’s bed and pulls at the thicker woolen blanket he has instead, the covers heavy in his arms as he carries them all the way to the living room, plopping the covers on the couch and huddling up in them, resigned to waiting. He turns on the television and watches reruns of Hello Kitty, her high-pitched Japanese voice ringing sharply in the cool dawn air._

_Dawn. It was past 4 in the morning._

Ded _has never come home this late before. Yuri jumps down from the couch, stumbling when the blanket tangles around his calves. The dinner table feels six feet taller than it actually is, and he jumps and flails for what feels like forever before finally grabs hold of the landline, the plastic freezing cold in his hands as he dials the familiar number._

_Instead of a ring, the doorknob jingles._

_Yuri drops the receiver and answers, Katsudon standing on the other side. Their neighbor is clutching his phone, paler than Yuri has ever seen him. His eyes are bright and glassy but dry, and he stumbles to his knees, becoming eyelevel with Yuri before he speaks. His warm hands fall heavy and secure over Yuri’s shoulders._

_His mouth opens and Yuri feels himself crying, Katsudon’s face coming in and out of focus as tears fog up his vision. He feels his throat become raw and Katsudon pulls him tight to his chest, Yuri’s face pressed securely to his shoulder._ Ded’s _face flashes in his mind. His lungs burn and his eyes leak burning hot tears._

_Yuri hates not being able to hear himself cry, so he screams._

 “—rio! Yuri!” A voice. “Wake up, Yurio!”

Yuri cried out, bolting upright. His face was wet, his nose dripping, and Katsudon’s face swam into sight, dark hair and dark eyes glowing in the blue dawn sunlight.

Vicchan yipped from the edge of his bed, and the flat beige walls of Katsudon’s childhood bedroom rose along the edges of Yuri’s vision, solidifying and becoming real. The soft cotton sheets smelled of soap and were blue, the thicker material of the duvet colored a darker shade and crisscrossed with thin white lines. The soft sounds of the _onsen_ waking up slipped past the thin walls, gentle and soothing and still a bit foreign.

Yes. He was in Hasetsu, visiting Katsudon’s family.

“K-Katsudon?”

The man’s face broke into a relieved smile and Yuri’s lip wobbled, a small sob shaking his frame before he buried his face in Yuuri’s chest, unable to stop the huge, body-rattling sobs from escaping. Katsudon’s warm hands cradled his head as he cried. “Shh, shh, it’s alright. Let it all out, it’s fine.”

“I had—” Yuri tried to explain before a huge sob made him gasp for air. “I—”

“Don’t force yourself,” Yuuri soothed, cupping Yuri’s face and meeting his eyes. “There’s no need to explain yourself.”

Yuri coughed wetly. “But—But I _want_ to.” He rubbed a fist at his eyes, wiping away tears that didn’t stop flowing, wetting the seam where Katsudon’s hands were still pressed to his face. “I want it out of me—so I… I know that it’s over.”

Yuuri smiled. “Alright. But you’ll come with me to get a drink of water before talking, okay?”

“Okay.”

Katsudon wrapped his arms around Yuri, easily picking him up. A small part of Yuri huffed at the idea of being carried, but right at that moment a larger part of him was on the moon, gladly clutching at Yuuri’s sleep shirt as the man carried him the short walk out of his bedroom and to the kitchen.

Mari was there, boiling water in a metal kettle. “You okay, Yurio?”

Yuri nodded slowly. Katusdon’s bedroom was just a few doors away from the kitchen. The knowledge that Katsudon’s cool older sister heard him crying sat sourly in the back of his mind.

Yuuri sat him on the tiled kitchen counter, which he’d sat on many times before. He’d helped Oba-chan make _onigiri_ there once, the little triangles of rice filled with an array of fillings ranging from tuna to pickled plums. A few nights after arriving to Hasetsu Yuri had sat there and watched Oji-chan slice salmon fillets for _sashimi_. Just last night he’d tried (and failed) to help Mari as she removed the heads and innards of tiny dried sardines for soup.

“Here, drink up.”     

Yuri gulped down the water, condensation cool against his hands. He pretended not to see the looks the two Japanese siblings shared as he drank. He set down the empty glass. “I had a bad dream.”

Katsudon smiled. “What was it about?”

Yuri felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting. But he’d made up his mind, swallowing up his tears as he shook his head. He wouldn’t cry. “I dreamt of _Ded_. Of the—the night he didn’t come home.”

“A memory, then.” Katsudon said, picking him back up again. He bounced Yuri in his arms once. “Thank you for telling me. Can you get to sleep again? We’ve still got a long train ride ahead of us this afternoon.”

 _“Or you could stay for another week.”_ Mari interjected, smirking. She understood English but largely preferred to speak in Japanese. Yuri enjoyed listening to the funny Kysuhu twang she had (Yuuri had practiced enough to be able to lose it). _“You’ve been here for three weeks, what’s another?”_

Yuuri rolled his eyes in reply. “Gee, _thanks for the idea. I’ll be sure to use that excuse when I come back to work._ ”

Mari sighed. “ _Drink this, Yurio. It got Yuuri back to sleep when he had nightmares.”_

The woman set down a mug, the unfamiliar liquid inside dark and thick.

Yuri sniffed at the contents and brightened, hopping back down from Katsudon’s arms to grab hold of the mug. He took a sip, and just as he’d expected a rich chocolate flavor flooded his mouth. His eyes grew heavy from the single sip, the warmth wrapping thick around his limbs like a blanket. “ _Thank you, Obasan. It tastes good!”_

Mari cackled, wrapping an arm around Katsudon’s shoulders (which was a feat considering she was shorter than him). “ _Ha! Who knew I’d be such a great aunt?”_

 _“It’s ‘cause you spoil him.”_  

“ _I do not; right, Yurio?”_ Mari said, winking down at Yuri. He giggled, the sound feeling strange right after crying. But he truly did like Mari, her quick wit and sharp smirk the total opposite and yet somehow identical to Katsudon’s soft smiles and stubbornness. She’d taken one look at him the day they met and instead of the plethora of nervous reactions Yuri expected (and had gotten for most of his life), she immediately started calling him Yurio, the nickname quick to catch on with the _onsen’s_ regulars.

Yuri turned to look up at his adoptive father. “If I sleep now, can I have this again before we go?”

“Of course.” Yuuri assured him, chuckling. “I’ll even make you some when we get back to Tokyo.” 

 “Yes!”

* * *

 

The moment Yurio sat down for their third train ride of the day he was out like a light, his blonde head drooping over his shoulder as he slumped against the back of his seat. It was pitch black outside, the glare from a few railroad signposts the only lights from outside as the bullet train sped past. Yuuri rested his head against the glass of the window and studied the kid in front of him.

He thought back to the deep rose-colored folder Yurio’s picture and case had been paperclipped into. It had been quite a mess getting everything in order, since not only was Yuuri adopting a vampire while being a human, he was also adopting from a foreign country. That folder would probably be stuck in a filing cabinet with all the other international adoptions, distinct from the plethora of green folders.

Unlike the garish and too-bright picture clipped to the folder, Yurio looked relaxed, fast asleep and fangs visible even as his mouth was clamped tightly shut. Yuuri couldn’t quite comprehend how those things fell out like milk teeth did.

_“You will need assistance when his fangs fall out,” Yakov had said. “As you are not Russian I won’t be there personally when the time comes, but fortunately I have a colleague in Tokyo that—”_

_Yuuri very nearly choked on his canned (and overpriced) tea._

“ _Did you think vampires were born with permanent teeth?” Yakov had sneered at Yuuri’s shock._ _They were on a flight back to Moscow, the_ Vampire Safety and Security _agent’s deep frown lines and fangs catching the faraway reading lights and lending him a sinister look._

_“Well-” Yuuri scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose I did.”_

Vampires usually got their set of permanent fangs around Yurio’s age, their first set falling out earlier than their other milk teeth. It was honestly terrifying, if the old man’s description of his experience could be trusted. The actual falling out part would be like any other tooth, but Feltsman had said the process of growing out the permanent fangs would result in a bonafide thirst for blood that sounded like the plot of a bad horror movie more than anything else.

Yuuri sighed, pulling his mind back to the present. It would be a problem for him in the near future, so the least he could do was worry about something else in the meantime.

He debated calling Seung-gil to kill some time, but he’d already called to tell him what time he’d be arriving to pick up Vicchan and the man would eventually move on to the topic of work, which was difficult for Yuuri to process at the moment, since he’d almost gotten used to not doing any in his actual office. He couldn’t just stop working altogether, so while he’d been in Russia dealing with the tricky process of adopting a vampire, he’d also worked on some things from his laptop and even delivered a few briefings on Skype, which turned out to be even more stressful than the briefings and presentations he did in person.

When he decided he would bear with the Korean’s eventual questioning, he made to call and paused, very nearly groaning with frustration. It was currently 11 p.m. and if Yuuri knew anything about Seung-gil, it was that the younger man slept at 9 p.m. every night. Work being the only exception.

Yuuri scowled down at the paperback he had on his lap. Its cover was plain, with the name _Viktor Nikiforov_ emblazoned on both the cover and spine.

The book was hefty, spine riddled with lines where the book had been opened too many times. Pages were dog-eared on Yuuri’s favorite parts. He’d loved the book since he’d picked it up three years ago, the characters and story so unique and yet _real_ at the same time. He’d probably read the six-hundred-page novel four times by now.

But either Yuuri read the man wrong the first time they met, or Viktor Nikiforov had a very talented ghost writer, because the arrogant man that Yakov had tasked with helping him raise Yuri couldn’t have written half the words in his favorite book without being a completely different person.

The thought of having to meet him again a day after arriving to Tokyo made Yuuri more nervous than he ever wanted to be, and a terrible, selfish part of him wanted to turn down Nikiforov’s help all at once.

But he knew there was no way he’d be able to handle Yurio’s first loose tooth without knowing anything about it, and who else to teach him than a vampire who experienced the exact same thing? Even when said vampire left a bitter taste in Yuuri’s mouth.

He sighed, thumbing a little too hard to turn the page.

 

 

_(Semptember)_

Viktor was in the throes of an inspired bout of writing when the phone rang. He flinched hard enough for his coffee to slosh over the rim of his cup, dangerously close to his laptop’s keys. His phone was long dead, the last time he’d heard it complaining about its lack of battery life a day ago. That left his landline, which meant only one of three people could be calling him. And at a time like this.

His fingers froze over the keys, breath hitching. Maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe he wouldn’t have to get up from his very comfortable chair in his very comfortable office to answer the landline all the way on the kitchen counter. Maybe—

It rang again.

Viktor groaned. He picked up his mug of lukewarm coffee and padded towards his kitchen, the ringing only growing louder the closer he got. He took a huge gulp of milky coffee before picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“ _Vitya? Is that you?”_

“ _Yes, yes. I’m listening,”_ Viktor easily switched to Russian. Yakov’s gruff voice was comforting and familiar, and with his apartment and clothes in complete disarray it reminded him of when he was fourteen, more than a dozen years ago. His musing was cut short when one of Yakov’s words cut past the film of his mind, shaking him into alertness. “ _P-Pardon?”_

“ _There is a man here.”_ Yakov’s voice was flat, lacking the usual gruffness. It chilled him far more than the old man’s angry yelling. “ _I need your help. He’s planning on adopting a vampire.”_

“ _Me? But Yakov—”_

Before Viktor could process what Yakov had said the older vampire gave him an address and a time, with instructions to look _presentable_ , and ‘not like you’ve been hiding in a den for the past month like bear’.

Viktor sighed. Yakov knew (his ex-wife was Viktor’s editor after all) that Viktor was on this trip to cleanse himself of all the stress living in St. Petersburg had given him, to write another novel. He’d helped out on many of Yakov’s cases involving humans, but that had been when he was in Russia and still reeling from the success of his first work. Now he was settling down to write another and the man expected him to help out with less than a weekend’s notice? He could, and very well _should_ , refuse. But he’d known Yakov since he was a child and the older man certainly knew him, enough to know just how to get him to agree.

Viktor took one look at the note he’d quickly scrawled on his hand. He was familiar with this restaurant—French, expensive—it was where he’d treated Chris when the man paid him a visit last month. He could do much more than ‘presentable’.

He ended up buying a new set of leather gloves, the pair a deep burgundy that set off the cool grey of his suit. _Merci_ was bustling with polite dinner chatter when he arrived, servers in crisp black-and-white uniforms jotting down orders and pouring out wine with placid expressions plastered to their faces. It was the sort of high-end establishment that didn’t bat an eye at the sight of Viktor or his fangs, the receptionist smiling and greeting him in thickly accented English. Most of the patrons were Japanese salarymen, young and old both discussing terms of business over canap s.

Yakov narrowed his eyes at him above the raven-haired man’s head when Viktor was led to their table, a thin smile pulling at Viktor’s face in reply. Yakov knew what he was asking for if he’d called Viktor—he had plenty of colleagues, much older and nicer than Viktor, to council this Yuuri Katsuki on raising his new vampiric charge. He knew Viktor would be merciless.

“Good evening,” Viktor greeted, letting the edges of his smile soften. “Yakov, it’s been so long. This must be—?”

“Yuuri Katsuki,” the man himself answered, standing up to shake Viktor’s hand. His fingers wrapped around Viktor’s still gloved hand, the digits twitching at the cold leather before tightening into a firm handshake. The man withdrew after a moment and bowed. “It’s very good to meet you, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“Viktor, please.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri Katsuki finally looked up and Viktor’s breath caught, a hard stone lodged in his throat at the sight of the other man’s hesitant smile. “Call me Yuuri.”

Viktor swallowed the stone in his throat. “Yuuri. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Quite surprisingly, a flush spread over Yuuri’s cheeks, his mahogany eyes flitting down. He sat down abruptly, head bowed enough for a few dark strands of his swept back hair to fall over his forehead. Viktor took off his gloves slower than necessary, studying the man in front of him unashamedly as the later fiddled with his fingernails.

“Have we all ordered?” Viktor picked up a menu and pretended to scan the lines of entrées, watching from the corner of his eye as Yuuri worried at his lip, appearing to be distressed over the menu for some reason. The sight was a double-edged sword: it made Viktor’s blood boil knowing how far this man was going just for publicity and yet it made him notice how full Yuuri’s lips were, stained pink from the wine he’d been sipping.

He ordered the scallops, Yakov the Lobster Thermidor, and Yuuri the stuffed tomatoes.

Viktor brightened once their waiter left. “So, you can’t possibly make me wait any longer, I’ve been dying to hear the whole story. Yakov here didn’t bother to tell me any of the details.”

“Wha— He didn’t?” Yuuri started, looking from Viktor to Yakov.

Yakov leveled a glare at Viktor from across the table. “I _did_ , and Viktor has already kindly agreed to assist you with any of your questions and concerns about raising Yuri Plisetsky.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course, of course. How could I refuse? Everyone knows Russian vampires have a history of suffering the worst growing pains from all other ethnicities.”

Yuuri paled. “Is it really that bad? Won’t it be better to admit him to a—”

“Those are all questions for another day, Yuuri.” Viktor took a sip of his wine and smiled, his laziest and most welcoming grin slipping on. “Tonight I want to know your story, how you met this Yuri Plisetsky and how you decided to do something so… unprecedented.”

“I dunno about ‘unprecedented’,” Yuuri mumbled, American accent coloring his words. “It just seemed like what I had to do at the time, I guess. Seeing Yuri cry so quietly when I told him, I’d never seen a kid cry that way before, he just looked so heartbroken.”

Viktor tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He _hated_ sob stories, especially when they were so obviously fabricated.

Their food arrived then, and for a few minutes they each took a few bites, Viktor unable to taste his scallop gratin in favor of dissecting each move Yuuri Katsuki made. He fought with everything inside him not to fall for the tricks the beautiful man in front of him was surely pulling, playing all shy and kind. There had to be some other reason, there always was when it came to things like this.

He sipped at his glass of wine. “So you knew the child before you adopted him?”

“Yes, he and his late grandfather were my neighbors.” Yuuri grinned softly, as if remembering a happy memory. “They were the best neighbors I’ve had since moving to Tokyo. Heh, even better than the ones we had in Hasetsu.”

“The late Nikolai Plisetsky migrated to Japan after his wife died,” Yakov explained. “He ended up taking care of his grandson Yuri Plisetsky when his daughter died due to complications during the birth. Until the accident of course.” 

Viktor grimaced. He’d almost forgoten how depressing the cases Yakov worked on usually were. “Anyway—what is it you do, Yuuri?”

“I’m a data analyst for Aria Electronics, nothing special really.” His eyes flitted to Viktor’s before quickly looking away. “I was wondering, actually, what a world-wide known author would be doing in Tokyo. Especially during this season, Christmas and New Year’s are the only fun holidays before the cherry blossoms come.”

“Ah, good observation.” Viktor hid his surprised expression behind a laugh. This Yuuri had done his research, not the first to do so, but it’d been a long time since someone recognized him when it came to meetings with Yakov. It’d been years since he’d published anything. “I’m actually trying to write a story about loneliness, and Tokyo is notorious for being absolutely filled with lonely people. I had hoped to observe them, but then I realized they would be in their apartments most of the time, so now I’m hoping that holing myself up like them will inspire me.”

Yuuri chewed at his bite of meat-stuffed tomato thoughtfully. “Writers are so intense.”

Viktor snorted, hating himself when he realized it was entirely genuine.

Their dinner continued. Yakov explained that he was nearly finished with his background checks on Yuuri, this current trip to Tokyo actually one of many. Yuuri was a fast eater and was soon dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood. “Excuse me, be right back.”

Viktor’s eyes followed him as he slipped into the men’s bathroom. He turned his gaze back to Yakov. The older vampire took one look at him and sighed, the sound gravely and all too old.

Viktor didn’t get up. Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think he is honest about his intentions for adopting.”

“Ya—”

“Listen,” Yakov hissed. His next words were spoken in Russian, a sure sign he was getting agitated. “ _He is a good man, and all of his papers and interviews show that.”_

Viktor gaped. “ _If you had come to this decision why bother calling me? I’ve better things to do, Yakov._ ” Whenever Yakov asked him to ‘help out’ during a case it usually meant he would be there as an extra pair of eyes whenever a parent seemed unfit to adopt. The prospecting parents were usually vampires, since their race was certainly dying out and losing the future generation to child abuse would not be in their favor, but sometimes cases like Katsuki’s came along, wherein a human would venture to adopt a vampire.

“ _We both know you don’t.”_

Viktor’s lip twitched. “ _I’m in Japan to write a nov—”_

“ _And you have written what—ten thousand words of rubbish you threw away the very next day?”_ Viktor flinched at the words, all too real for him to acknowledge. Yakov pursed his lips, seeming to gather his thoughts. _“You’re in a slump. Everyone knows it—except for you, it seems_.”

“ _And now you’re my therapist_?”

“ _You need more than inspiration, Vitya. Writing rubbish over and over will do nothing.”_

Viktor scoffed. “ _Did Lilia call you? She’s been waiting for my next manuscript for two years now._ ” Yakov clapped a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, the action from so long ago it took Viktor back a decade.

“ _Not all humans are terrible, Vitya—”_

“ _I_ know _that.”_ Viktor fought to keep his voice level. He wasn’t stupid. “ _I’ve read the articles; there are hundreds to choose from. But Katsuki adopting a child, going all the way to Russia, it’s so obviously a scheme. I’m surprised you can’t see it.”_

_“If he’d had any ill intentions I would have seen it. There is a reason I’m conducting his background checks myself.”_

Viktor shook his head, adamant. “ _This caring father act he’s got is so obvious_.” He stood up, chair scraping loudly. The last strings of Russian tinted his words. _“He’ll be planning the talk shows he’s going to attend after this gets to the media.”_

Yakov didn’t move to stop him as he followed Yuuri into the bathroom.

“Oh, Viktor.” Yuuri looked up from where he was washing his hands, soap clinging to them. “I still can’t believe how good the breadsticks were, they’re probably the best I—”

 “You should just tell me what your real reason is, you know. It’ll save us both the time.”

The tap turned off suddenly. “W-What?”

Viktor suppressed a groan, narrowing his eyes instead, examining each part of Yuuri’s apparently-dumbfounded face. “What, does your job have a vampire boss you want to impress, or do you have some kind of promotion on the line? Maybe you have a magazine interview already waiting for when you’ve closed this and you have the kid?” He stepped closer, caging Yuuri in with the few inches of height he had, locking their gazes together. “Or maybe you _had_ good intentions but realize you’re not cut out to raise a vampire six months in and decide to give the kid up like they were a rented DVD—back into the system so that more humans can try their hand at raising them before returning them again. Just give up and save _all_ our time.”

A thin smile pulled at the corners of Viktor’s mouth. “One wrong move from you and you’ll never see Yuri Plisetsky again; the VSS will make sure of that.”

Yuuri took hold of Viktor’s wrist when he tried to pull away.

His eyes were piercing, dark and aflame like popping charcoal. Viktor found he couldn’t look away. “You have no say in what _you_ think I’m doing. It’s none of your business, and if you think coming in here to intimidate me will make me change my mind it won’t. Nothing will.” He shook his head sharply, thin clumps of gelled hair framing his face. From this close, Viktor realized he wore clear contacts.

Viktor grabbed his necktie before he realized it, his face warming. He was worried the other man would notice, but Yuuri’s determined scowl was broken by his wide-eyed surprise, gaze flicking from Viktor’s hand around his tie and back up to his face. “Let go—”

“Your tie is hideous.” Viktor quipped. It really was—a terrible shade of powder blue that did nothing good for the younger man’s already ill-fitting suit. He let go of the necktie and walked out of the bathroom, body thrumming with a mishmash of feelings. He hadn’t meant to say that, but it’d been that or kissing him (which would’ve been infinitely worse).

Two weeks later the adoption was finalized-- Yuuri Katsuki had managed to adopt a vampire.

That turned out to be even worse than Viktor’s fleeting urge to kiss Katsuki, and upon hearing the news he’d deleted his latest bout of inspiration, the words all too stale and tasteless. He very nearly threw out his laptop too, if not for the knowledge that he would need to buy a new one if he did. He froze, fingers tight around his laptop, arms poised over his apartment’s garbage chute, when he realized he’d done exactly what Yakov had said weeks prior.

_No. I can write. And I will. Yakov isn’t a writer, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know anything._

Like a man possessed, Viktor spent the next few days after the successful adoption tapping away on his laptop and trying his best to purge everything about Katsuki from his mind. He even turned on the television, the noise and glare garish and new to him after so many years of forgoing to watch anything on it. He promised himself it was mere coincidence that the channel had been the local news.  

It didn’t take long for Russian news outlets to immediately spread word about Katsuki’s adoption, flashing photos and quick, half-minute long clips of Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetsky as they exited the adoption agency. All reports stated that Katsuki and his new kid would be spending time in Hasetsu, where the man hailed from before returning to Tokyo. If that was to be trusted, Katsuki would be swamped with reporters the moment he stepped into Tokyo, if he wasn’t already in Hasetsu. The latter would be more likely if it was fame Katsuki sought.

The phone rang.

It was a long time since Viktor truly _did not_ want to pick up the phone, but eventually the ringing drowned out the female reporter’s voice so Viktor shuffled into his kitchen and answered the call.

“ _You cleared him.”_ Viktor spoke first, eyes trained on the black granite of his countertop.

_“Of course I did.”_

A sigh, he suddenly felt very tired. _“What’s the occasion, then? Two phone calls in one month, aren’t you missing me too much, Yakov?”_

_“Mr. Katsuki hasn’t refused your help after whatever it is you told him. I suggest you do.”_

Viktor raised an eyebrow. This Yuuri Katsuki seemed to want to prove something. If that's the case, then Viktor would come prepared. 

* * *

 

Yuuri did not come prepared at all.

“ _Katsuki-san!”_

_“Katsuki-san! Have you received any backlash from vampire communities in the wake of your adoption?”_

_“Would you say your month-long stint in Russia was excessive on the VSS’s part?”_

_“_ Will you be sending Yuri Plisetsky to an all-vampire school? Mr. Katsuki?”

_“Katsuki-san!”_

The flashing cameras nearly blinded Yuuri, English in all different kinds of accents and familiar Japanese shouted all over each other to form a cacophony of noise that Yuuri barely understood. Mics, cellphones, and even old-fashioned voice recorders were thrust into his face as he tried to walk down the Japanese neighborhood’s sidewalk. He kept his head down and walked briskly, the skill ingrained into his psyche after years of blending into the monochrome crowds of office workers that swamped Tokyo’s streets.

But the reporters were insistent— forming a wall of voices and lights that slowed Yuuri considerably.

Yurio had his head cradled in the crook of Yuuri’s shoulder, arms wrapped securely around his neck in a grip tight enough to keep Yuuri grounded and his anxiety far enough at bay. Yuuri was unsure whether the action comforted him or Yurio more.

He’d understood when reporters flocked to his apartment the day he and Yurio had arrived from Hasetsu; it wasn’t the first time a human adopted a vampire in Japan, but a human going all the way to _Russia_ —that was a whole other story. But that had been yesterday, and today was not only a weekend, but also eight in the evening, the sun already gone and stars beginning to twinkle above. Yuuri knew that news in Tokyo rose and fell faster than newspapers and cheap gossip magazines could be printed, his adoption couldn’t have been that big of a deal and couldn’t have lasted for very long. Or at least he’d thought it wouldn’t.

_“Katsuki-san!”_

The shout had come from a particularly shrill Japanese announcer Yuuri could barely recognize, his voice loud and from a close enough distance to make Yurio flinch in surprise. Before Yuuri could stop himself, he scowled, his eyes narrowing accusatorily towards the man. His grip on Yurio tightened.

It made the crowd grow the slightest bit slack, their flashing cameras slowing.

Eventually Yuuri could push past the reporters, doing his best to ignore the thin gathering of onlookers that were probably curious as to what all the fuss was about. 

It was a relief when they finally reached the bus stop. Yuuri rarely used buses in Tokyo, but Yakov’s largest complaint had been the size of his apartment, the one bedroom flat ‘fit for a two-bit salaryman; not a father’ the old man had surmised. So Yuuri rented out a 2LDK in a neighborhood teeming with suburban houses and green grocers, the apartment a few blocks away from a preschool and two train rides away from his office, which really was as good as he was going to get. It made having an actual _child_ feel all the more terrifyingly real and amazing, or at least it should, if Yuuri could spend any time with Yurio without freaking out over the amount of people flocking outside their building.

And if he could avoid worsening the grudge Viktor Nikiforov seemingly had on him. Viktor Nikiforov who had been living in Tokyo for the past year and in a condo that was now just a short bus ride away from Yuuri’s new kid-friendly 2LDK.

“When d’you think they’ll leave?” Yurio asked when Yuuri sat him down. The kid spoke in thickly accented English instead of the Japanese he studiously practiced, a sure sign that he was more rattled than he let on.

Yuuri brushed back his yellow hair. “Not long now, they’ll probably be gone by the end of the weekend. When they’re gone we can finally take Vicchan and Potya out for a walk in that pet park.”

“Yay!” The child leaned forward in realization. “Will Viktor have to come with us?”

“Wh—Oh, I don’t think so.” _Oh god please no._

Other than the exciting fact that Yurio would be attending his first year of preschool, Yurio had also learned about Viktor, and from Feltsman no less. The social worker had told the kid Nikiforov would be there as Yuuri’s babysitter, looking over everything he did and making sure Yurio had a vampire to talk to in case the child felt ‘isolated’.

Yurio didn’t warm up to people easily, and even the knowledge that Viktor was both Russian and a vampire couldn’t make the boy any less glum that he had to meet another new person. It made him feel horrid, but knowing that the kid wasn’t looking forward to meeting Viktor Nikiforov filled Yuuri with a terrible sort of glee. He almost wanted to decline Nikiforov’s help entirely, but Feltsman’s account of his own permanent fangs growing in terrified Yuuri, as well as the fact that Yurio really would need someone to teach him the ins and outs of being a vampire in the absence of his grandfather.

 So Yuuri tried his best to keep his dislike towards Nikiforov at a level Yurio wouldn’t be able to pick up on. Maybe they could get out of this arrangement within a month.

They got off the bus after a fifteen-minute ride and walked the rest of the way, entering a rich neighborhood that Yuuri’s boss probably lived in. Modern houses sporting more floor-to-ceiling windows than walls lined the street, their blunt edges contrasting against the bright reds and yellows of the trees. Yurio enjoyed himself by trailing behind Yuuri and picking up the prettiest leaves he could find, a hand tugging on the hem of his jacket. The crunching sound and the kid’s soft huffs of delight soothed Yuuri as he checked and rechecked the address Viktor had sent him, looking up at the expansive buildings and trying to guess which one the man’s condo was.

“Ah—Yuuri!”

Yuuri froze and looked around, Yurio bumping into the back of his leg. “Over here!” The voice called again and Yuuri’s eyes caught a flash of silver, his head swiveling up and to the side. Viktor Nikiforov leaned over the edge of his balcony, silver hair alight and eyes so blue against his pale skin. Yuuri’s mouth went dry.

As they waited for Viktor to come down and let them in, Yuuri mentally facepalmed. He’d almost forgotten—he found the other man embarrassingly attractive.

The gate to the low wall that surrounded the condo opened and the man himself was there, dressed way down in a thin t-shirt and sweatpants. Yuuri locked eyes with him for a freezing second before he realized Yurio was staring up at him, green eyes expectant as he waited for him to move. Lump in his throat, Yuuri smiled sheepishly at the kid and led them forward. Viktor greeted the little boy in their shared mother tongue, the man falling into step with them when Yurio made it clear that he had no plans of letting Yuuri’s hand go. As the elevator hummed its way up to whichever floor Viktor lived on, Yuuri tried to calm himself (and ignore how nice Viktor’s voice sounded) by listening to Yurio’s polite, if a bit aloof, replies to whatever questions Viktor was asking.

Somewhere inside him he was a bit nervous about what the two Russians were talking about, but Viktor seemed light and bouncy today compared to their first meeting and Yuuri could feel Yurio slowly starting to warm up to the man. He still had on a suspicious frown, but it’d taken a whole week and a bowl of Katsudon to get Yurio to smile and not hate Yuuri back when the kid had only been his neighbor’s grandson, so it was expected.

The elevator doors slid open and Yurio rushed ahead, Viktor’s room card shining in his small hands. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed him take it.

Yuuri gaped. “Hey—be careful with—”

“It’s alright,” Viktor’s hand touched his shoulder and Yuuri flinched, an embarrassed squeak worming its way out of his mouth. The hand immediately fell away just as the door to the silver-haired man’s apartment opened.

As Yurio quickly discarded his coat in the threshold, Yuuri looked down, bowing slightly to the other man. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Nikiforov. It’s very much appreciated.”

“I told you; you should call me Viktor.”

The words sounded normal—if not a bit flirty, but once Yuuri met the other man’s eyes he knew it was a challenge. Nikiforov still didn’t trust him and his reasons for adopting Yurio one bit and his thorny smile and cold eyes proved it. Yuuri narrowed his eyes and tried his best to look unshaken.

A door opening and a high-pitched shriek broke through their staring contest.

Behind him he heard Viktor swear and they both tore into the apartment, Yuuri beating him to it and rounding the threshold’s corner right in time to see Yurio being enveloped by a large brown _thing_ , a pang of terror stabbing at his chest. “Yuri—!”

Halfway towards the blur Yuuri realized that the kid was laughing, a huge brown _poodle_ licking at his face. The poodle was an exact replica of Vicchan. Of course. Of course Viktor had a poodle.

Yurio turned back to Yuuri and grinned brightly, “He looks just like Vicchan!”

Viktor sighed, face still a bit pale. “She, actually. Her name’s Makkachin, and I’m glad you seem to like dogs.”

“He loves dogs,” Yuuri said, nerves still thrumming with adrenaline. He breathed out slow, calming himself down. “We have a cat at home too.”

“Her name’s Puma-Tiger-Scorpion.” Yurio said.

“Potya for short.” Yuuri added, giggling at the memory. He grinned at Viktor before he could stop himself. “Yurio really wanted to name her.”

Viktor’s eyes widened in reply, clearly not expecting Yuuri to smile at him. Yuuri froze, waiting for a veiled insult or a sharp smirk but instead he was faced with a grin, tentative and quick, but also the most genuine he’d seen.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t all that bad.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more salty vitya, ballet lessons, and lots and lots of blood

“Um,” Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek, eyes sliding away from the pot of boiling water in front of him to look up at Viktor. The man watched his every movement intently. “I know how to heat up blood, just so you know.”

“Of course you don’t.” Viktor quipped, easy as anything.

He easily pushed himself up from the side of the counter, settling beside Yuuri. He smiled his dazzlingly fake smile (was it weird that Yuuri could tell his smiles apart now?). “Go on, show me how good you are at this.”

Yuuri scowled. “Fine.”

He slipped the bag of frozen blood into the water. He stirred it around gently with his tongs, feeling the bag soften as the blood liquefied. It was ready to take out when it was all melted and Yuuri set it down on the counter to cool down for a minute. Viktor picked it up, the bag still steaming faintly.

“Hey—”

“It’s faster like this,” Viktor explained. He massaged the bag between his hands, his perpetually cold skin cooling down the blood inside. “My hands are quite immune to the heat after years of doing it.”

Yuuri dared to look up. Viktor was looking off somewhere, his mouth pulled down into a faint frown. It was a face Yuuri hadn’t seen before. He looked back down and had to swallow down a gasp. His pale hands were bright red from the heat, fingers clutching onto the bag with a strange intensity. Before he could regret it, Yuuri covered the older man’s hands with his.

Viktor flinched, grip loosening enough for Yuuri to tug the bag out of his hands. “Your hands looked like they were hurting.”

“Mm. Thanks.”

A silence fell, heavy and thick. Yuuri glanced once at the other man and saw that he was frowning even deeper now. But this frown was familiar, the kind of face Viktor made when he was chastising himself. Yuuri had learned the first time they met that it wasn’t uncommon for Viktor to hide everything behind a sparkling smile— but once in a while the veneer fell.

 The first time Yuuri caught him staring off into space, a hand rubbing at the back of his head absentmindedly. He looked normal at first, before Yuuri noticed the strange expression on his face. Recently the times he’d shown that face had grown, Yuuri catching him a few times as he stared at the photos of Yuuri’s family that were hanging on the wall. His eyes were brilliant and heart wrenchingly sad, sparkling blue and cyan as he let the walls around him fall.

Yuuri snipped at the corner of the bag with a pair of scissors and poured the blood into a glass. Immediately Viktor’s finger was dipping into the liquid, the tip covered in red before he popped it into his mouth. He grimaced. “Bleh. It’s too cold.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. He stuck his finger into the blood. “Shouldn’t it be body temperature? It’s just right.”

“Says you. You’ve never had blood, you don’t even know what it tastes like- let alone how hot it is when it’s fresh.” Viktor scoffed. “Are you perhaps getting lazy?”

“Not at all.” Yuuri replied, the words coming through gritted teeth. “I’ll heat up another bag.”

A few weeks later and Yuuri is studying his arm, applying pressure over the ball of cotton that covered the puncture wound left by the needle. It’d been a while since his last donation, and he felt slightly lightheaded.

 “Yuuri,” Viktor greeted.

It’s like the world hated him.

“Oh,” Yuuri paused, standing frozen behind the blood center’s counter. He shook his head slightly and continued walking, rolling down his sleeve over the band aid. Viktor’s eyes followed the movement. “Hello.”

The older man looked back up at him. “Here to pick up Yurio’s blood?”

“Not today,” Yuuri turned, looking for his name on the long list of people who were scheduled to donate blood for that day. Once he found it he pulled out his small seal and stamped down, the red ink glossy and wet beside his name. “Just a donation, I forgot to go last month.”

Beside him Viktor slipped his small paper bag of pills into a pocket of his coat.

Yuuri knew the man preferred the pills to actual blood, the tiny red capsules concentrated and containing all the nutrients vampires ingested from blood. They weren’t recommended for a vampire bellow sixteen though, since donated blood was easier to digest. “I’ve been wondering, but why do you prefer the pills?”

Viktor smiled, the corners of his lips sharp and the tips of his fangs glinting. “Let me treat you to dinner and I’ll tell you.”

“Wha—”

“You forgot to donate last month, yes? Donating two pints in one session is so much, you need to be fed.” Viktor steered them onto the sidewalk, a hand resting comfortably on Yuuri’s shoulder. He melted just a little. “We wouldn’t want you collapsing from fatigue.”

“I have to be back in an hour, you know.” Yuuri quickly checked the time. “It can’t be somewhere too far.”

Viktor smirked. “Of course.”

A few minutes later they were sitting in the booth of a bustling noodle shop, other suited salarymen quickly wolfing down their food beside them. Yuuri ordered a plate of _yakisoba_ while Viktor went with a bowl of _udon_. As they waited, Yuuri busied himself with looking at the other people eating, steam wafting from their meals. Yurio was probably eating the leftovers from last night right about now.

He felt Viktor’s eyes on him and he flushed. “Er—thanks for the lunch. You don’t have to answer my question if it was too personal or something.”

“I simply prefer fresh blood.” Viktor stated, shrugging his shoulders. “It takes a while for the body to fully accept the pills, so I’m still drinking blood every few days to keep healthy. Drinking the bagged stuff just reminds me that the fresh kind is so much better though. Nothing can really compare to it.” At those words his eyes glanced down towards Yuuri’s arm, right where his sleeve concealed the small cut the needle left. Yuuri knew the Russian was teasing, but the unabashed stare made him shiver.

Their food arrived and with it their topics shifted, Viktor talking about the novel he was writing instead. He asked if Yuuri had _finally_ read his first work, but Yuuri always shook his head, not really willing to admit that it was his favorite piece of fiction in all of history. As they ate Yuuri realized that he and Viktor got along quite well together, as long as the topic of Yurio or vampires was kept well at bay. Viktor had great stories to tell, and he seemed genuinely interested to hear the mundane troubles Yuuri would share in between.

“Oh, and by the way,” Yuuri said, chasing around the last few noodles on his plate. “About Yurio’s school—”

“Ah, Yes!” Viktor perked up. “I’ve already found a good vampire preschool that not to far from your apartment. It’s a chain of schools, so it won’t be hard for Yurio to transfer to their elementary schools after.”

Yuuri paused, slowly swallowing. Oh, he wasn’t going to take this well. “I’m not planning on enrolling Yurio into an all-vampire school, actually.”

Viktor paused. “What?”

 The man’s hands stilled. Yuuri steeled himself, meeting Viktor’s eyes. “His grandfather told me explicitly that he was planning to enroll Yurio into a normal school. So I am.”

“I won’t allow it.”

Yuuri clutched at the edge of the table, the plastic digging into his palm. “All schools are required to accept vampire enrollees, it’s not against the law. And I already informed Mr. Feltsman, so you don’t need to threaten me.” With the last of his lunch eaten, Yuuri drank the bottled water beside him and stood, smoothing out his suit.

“Where are you going?” Viktor asked, brows furrowed. He was looking down at his food.

“Back to the office, obviously.” At his words the other man looked up sharply. Yuuri smiled placidly, happy to find that he’d won today’s argument. “I’ll explain everything next time. I’m running late.”

 

* * *

 

_November_

Yuri breathed deeply, fists clenched tight around the swing’s chain until they felt numb. His eyes stung from both the cold and tears that threatened to leak out. With a tremendous kick he launched himself into the air, the swing creaking dangerously above him. Cold air whipped around him and pale yellow flitted across his vision, crisscrossing over the pale grey of the sky.

“ _He bit me!”_

_“What?”_

_“Plisetsky! He bit me!”_

On the first day of school Yuri had introduced himself in Japanese, good enough to get a surprised smile and a nod from his teacher. But somehow it was like each one of his classmates forgot and they spoke about him constantly, as if he couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

Even as he closed his eyes to block out their voices, Fumio’s still shrieked past the sharp creaks of the swing. _“Vampires are dangerous! See, see?”_

_“That’s so scary.”_

Yuri fought not to bite his lip too hard; he’d been cut enough times before to know that. Instead he screwed his eyes closed tighter and thought back to the video he’d seen of Katsudon, shown to him by _Obasan_ when he arrived to Hasetsu.

 _Obasan_ had explained that Katsudon had been the same age as him when the video was taken, and Yuri had gasped when he saw the small figure on stage, the only boy in a small group of girls. The video was taken too far away for him to see Katsudon’s face, the lights a harsh white against their cotton candy pink leotards and tights, but the little figure in the video had the familiar mop of black hair Katsudon had. Yuri remembered the strange dance they did, jumping and waving their arms like fools. He’d laughed when child-Katsudon stumbled on a step when another figure came into view, this time tall and willowy. She danced among Katsudon and the other children like nothing Yuri had ever seen before, her hair pulled into a tight bun and her arms covered from shoulder to wrist by a black leotard that contrasted against the shimmery tulle of her wide skirt. It had been the most graceful and beautiful dance he’d seen.

“Yurio!”

Yuri started, eyes snapping open. He squinted.

Viktor stood at the door of the preschool, a hand holding Makkachin’s leash and the other waving him over. Yuri jumped down from the swing while it was midair and ran towards him, leaves crunching loudly underfoot. He reached Makkachin first, the large poodle licking at his face in greeting, her breath hot against his chilled skin. He shrieked, wiping off the cooling slobber with his gloved hand. “Ew! I’ve missed you, Makka. Good dog!”

“Ready to go home, Yurio?”

Yuri ruffled Makkachin’s ears. He let his eyes linger on the big poodle’s kind face. He froze when his classmates’ voices flitted into earshot.

“ _Look, he’s here to pick him up again.”_

_“Is that his dad?”_

_“Of course—”_

_“My mom told me Yuri is adopted.”_

He gritted his teeth, the grating sound drowning his classmates’ voices out. “Very.”

There was a pause above him before Viktor thanked his teacher and led him away by the hand, hands gloveless even as autumn wind whipped up leaves and paper trash around them. It hadn’t been the first time Viktor had been the one to fetch him from school; Katsudon was sometimes held up with work, being in Russia for so many months. Yuri chanced a glance up at Viktor and saw that he was looking somewhere else. Yuri followed his gaze and almost froze when he realized Viktor was looking at Fumio Okada, two red sharpie dots drawn onto his arm to frighten their classmates. 

Yuri kept his head down as they walked, the concrete beneath his boots seeming to go on and on until Viktor stopped suddenly.

They were in front of a tempura stall, the smell of frying batter and the sound of sizzling oil all-encompassing. Viktor managed to order two servings of shrimp tempura with his very limited Japanese, the two women in the stall quickly frying and packing the shrimp into clamshell takeout containers, sauce and a smear of wasabi included in the small compartments. When they were finished Viktor led them to a nearby park bench and sat Yuri down.

“Here,” he said, handing Yuri one of the containers. “Yuuri said he’d catch up with us.”

Yuri nodded slowly, pulling off his gloves. They ate silently, the tempura’s heat warming up Yuri’s fingers.

“You know Yurio, there are schools where boys like _him_ can’t bother you.”

“W-What?” Yuri flinched, Viktor’s switch to their native tongue sudden. He floundered to reply. “What do you mean?”

Viktor smiled, strained at the corners. “There are schools especially for vampires, Yurio. I went to one, and there are plenty here in Tokyo.”

Yuri’s head spun. No one had told him that.

“It’ll be a bit of a commute though,” Viktor continued, face brighter that before. “the nearest one is a twenty-minute commute from your house. But I’d be—”

“Viktor.”

Katsudon stood in front of them, flushing bright red from the cold. He immediately pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around Yuri’s neck, even though the cold really wasn’t all that bad when you were a vampire. As Katsudon knotted it securely he thanked Viktor for picking Yuri up, his voice stunted and funny-sounding like it sometimes got when he spoke to the Russian.

All three of them and Makkachin walked back to their apartment, where Yuri was just waiting to bury his hands in Potya’s soft fur. Once the door to their apartment was open he ran right in, rousing Vicchan and Potya where they both slept. It was only when he was grabbing dog and cat food from the kitchen that he head Katsudon and Viktor’s voices, the sounds leaking from the barely open front door.

“—Yuuri, he’s suffering in that place.” Viktor said, voice sharper than Yuri had ever heard it, forceful and the slightest bit vicious.

Yuri flinched, the realization that they were talking about him freezing him to the spot.

“Kids are like that, they’ll tease anything and everyone that’s different.”

“And Yurio _is_ different! He always will be, and those children will never be able to understand him. He’d be so much better off in a school for my kind.”

Katsudon scoffed, “And what, you want him segregated from society even more?” His voice rose. “Separated from the real world for his whole life like—"

A sigh. “Nevermind. I’m tired, Viktor—it’s been a long day. You and I both know why Yurio can’t transfer schools.”

Viktor seemed to start to say something before it was all silent again. The door closed, and Yurio scurried back to his room, heart hammering so hard his fingers trembled even as he fed his two pets. It’d been the first time he’d heard them argue and Katsudon and Viktor’s voices still rang in his head, the sounds sharp and ringing like bells. He clamped hands over his ears to drown out their stinging voices.

Hot tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. A scream bubbled up in the back of his throat, too many emotions mixing in his mind.

He hated feeling like this, hated Fumio and his classmates and their stupid words. He hated making Viktor worried, especially if it led to Katsudon and him arguing. But most of all he hated being a burden to his adoptive father, who had taken him in even when Yuri only caused trouble. Katsudon never said so, but Yuri knew.

The people that looked after him while he’d been in the orphanage tried to keep their voices down, but Yuri could always hear them, knew that the VSS was deliberately giving Katsudon a hard time. And he could see it too, every time Katsudon would come to visit all those months ago he’d be pale and have bags under his eyes.

Yuri hated that.

Eventually, his thoughts faded and he slept. Fitfully.

Music coming from the other side of his bedroom door eventually woke Yuri up. It was unfamiliar, a jaunty and robust piano song that calmed and intrigued his hazy mind. Without really thinking about it, he got up and padded out of his room, socked feet silent against the faux wood floor. Their apartment was pretty high up the building, and so when he looked out the balcony’s glass door he saw that it was much later, indigo clouds streaking through the dark sky.

The music was loudest from Katsudon’s room.

The man had a weird habit of forgetting to close the doors all the way which Yuri absolutely hated, but now he was glad for it, a thin sliver of light escaping from where the sliding door was left open. Shadows flitted across it once and a while.

Yuri, still half-asleep and curious, sat down and peeked.

Clad in all blue, Katsudon danced in the confides of his room. Like the lady in the video, Katsudon was ethereal, muscles taut as he jumped and spun but movements so soft it looked he was floating. His feet were soundless when they landed. Yuri’s eyes were glued to it. He wanted to do that.

The door slid open with the weight of Yuri leaning on it, his body crashing to the floor.

“—ri!”

Yuri jumped, fully awake and full of shame. He pushed himself up hastily. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Huh?” Katsudon’s voice came. The music clicked off. “Don’t be sorry, you shocked me, is all. Come over here.”

Yuri didn’t want to, his face growing hot. His head ached from the shock, all the sleep draining out of him and leaving him more tired than before he’d fallen asleep. The stupid emotions that were balled up in the back of his throat were back, smaller but still there.

“What was that song called?” Yuri asked, half-heartedly kneeing his way closer. His face was still warm from being caught and he rubbed at his eyes.

Katsudon blinked owlishly at him. “Oh my gosh, did I wake you? I’m sorry.” He grabbed his glasses from his bedside table and sat down, legs neatly folded under himself. “And the song’s from the Nutcracker. It’s one of the first ballets I learned.”

Yuri sat down beside him, letting his head fall heavily against Katsudon’s side. “Why don’t you dance like that all the time?” The man huffed in surprise at the question and looped an arm around him.

“I’m in the office most of the time,” Yuuri laughed. “But I guess ballet is just something that I do for fun now—it used to be my whole life, back when I was in middle school. It still relaxes me though, puts me in a place where I can really think.”

“That,” Yuri started, a bit overwhelmed. He hadn’t known this side of Katsudon at all. It seems today he’d be learning a lot of things. “That sounds nice.”

They were quiet for a while, Katsudon rubbing soothing circles into Yuri’s back and rocking back and forth lightly. Sleep crept silent fingers into Yuri’s mind and made everything feel soft around the edges. Before it could pull him under Yuri spun his head to look up, Katsudon starting when he realized Yuri was in fact not asleep.

“I heard you and Viktor talking.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri murmured at once, muffled against his hair. “I had a feeling you did, but when I came into your room you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. Did we scare you?”

Yuri shook his head ‘no’, but the arm around him squeezed tighter and he knew Katsudon could see through his lie. He snuggled in closer.

“Your grandfather always talked about you, you know.” Katsudon began, voice soft. Yuri brightened at the words, a fluttery feeling in his chest. “He talked a lot about your mom and your grandmother and Russia, too.”

“Did he talk about the _ma-shins_ he worked on?”

Katsudon giggled. “Yeah, he talked about the machines. He also talked about the roses he used to grow.” He poked Yuri’s cheek. “Now listen; he talked about going to school in a place like Viktor told you about, the kind that’s especially for vampires. It’s true that it felt like any other school, and there were no mean kids that teased him about his fangs.” 

At those words guilt nudged insistently at Yuri’s brain. Again, Katsudon was worrying about him.

"But he also talked about how those schools only taught him to stay in line, keep hidden, and never draw attention to himself. He'd stayed that way for a while, until your mom was born. She hadn't been like other vampires at the time; she wanted to travel, see the world. So she did."

"She climbed Everest." Yuri piped up. He still felt guilty about how much his adoptive father worried over him, but _Ded_ didn't talk about his mother much other than tell him about the many fantastic places she'd been to. Every little thing was precious to him.

"Yup, and she told your grandparents all about it. Your grandfather told me how scared he'd been whenever he thought about your mom being out in the world all alone, was afraid of how the world—how humans— would treat her. It took them a while to realize, but your mom soon convinced them that living the way vampires had lived in the past—hiding, protecting their own kind, and keeping outsiders away, was just that, the past."

Katsudon sighed, cutting himself off. He seemed to be thinking. "Your mom wanted you to grow up without fear of what the world would think of you, she told your grandfather that, and he wanted that for you too."

"And you agree with them?"

A terribly heavy sigh whooshed out of Katsudon before he enveloped Yuri in a loose hug. "Of course I do. No one should feel like they have to hide who they are.”

The anger Yuri had for all his classmates morphed into painful needles behind his eyes. As always, Katsudon was looking out for him and worrying about him. He tried blinking them away, but eventually the tears came, thin and silent at first before Yuri’s whole body shook as he heaved and sobbed. Katsudon cradled the back of his head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, letting the tears soak into his shirt. When he next spoke, it was accompanied by a soft huff of air by Yuri’s ear.

“But if you really do hate it in that place, you can tell me, alright?"

Yuri nodded mutely.

“Now,” Yuuri hummed. “It’s finally the weekend, what would you like to do?”

* * *

 

_December_

After a month and a half, Yuuri is certain now that Viktor’s opinion of him has improved, the man realizing somewhere along the way that Yuuri was _not_ planning on using Yurio to get a promotion or an interview with Ellen. It made their conversations much easier, but it didn’t stop the vampire from being very vocal about practically _everything_.

“I’m just saying,” Viktor began, “you’d get so much more work done. Everyone would just bow before you whenever you arrived at work.”

Yuuri sighed. This again. “Are you forgetting? I work a desk job.” He chuckled, pausing to pay for their coffees. He could never be thankful enough that the building Yurio’s dance classes were in also had a café a quick walk away. “The only times I need to look presentable are when I’m at a meeting. _And_ I can’t shell out a hundred thousand yen for a fancy suit.”

Viktor gasped. “ _Bespoke_ , Yuuri. It’s very different from just _a fancy suit_. And it would cost at least two hundred thousand for it to be any good.”

“You’re glad I wasn’t drinking anything when you said that.” Yuuri deadpanned. He didn’t know what to make of this new, flirtier Viktor Nikiforov. It was hilarious and a bit silly how he raged over Yuuri’s quote unquote ‘terrible suits’, but the times Viktor would grab his tie and pull him close to inspect it or when Viktor pulled his blazer taunt against his torso to show how a proper suit should fit still made Yuuri blush.

Now that he thought about it, Viktor mentioned his choice of office wear every time they met without fail, which was nearing every day now. Yuuri knew nothing about the process, but he could bet Viktor wouldn’t be getting much time to write with him picking Yurio up from school or babysitting on nights he had to work overtime—which really wasn’t what Yuuri had expected when they first met, but Viktor always offered and Yuuri wasn’t sure the intern (a kid named Minami that really did try too hard to get his approval) or any of their elderly neighbors would be able to handle watching Yuri.

“Anyway, I was thinking that Yurio should start staying at home now. Both of his fangs have fallen out—”

“With no help from you,” Yuuri cut in, giggling at the memory of Viktor rummaging through his fridge for ice right after the kid accidentally pulled out his own tooth while wiggling it around. “And have you seen him? There’s no way I’m gonna get him to agree to skip dance class.”

As Yuuri spoke they both walked into the dance studio, Yurio’s head of blonde hair easily visible from the other dark-haired children. Their class had already finished, with an older group of students stretching on the barre as children the same age as Yurio changed out of their dance clothes for the trip home. Yurio sat on one of the benches, feet dangling as he spoke animatedly to another kid.

“Yurio!”

The child looked up, his face flushed and bangs sticking to his forehead. He hoped down from the bench and trotted over, the other kid (Yuuri thinks his name was Beka) following when Yurio called him over.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Beka.” Viktor bent down and waved at the dark-haired boy. He was two years older than Yuuri’s adopted son, with a stern face and a soft voice. Yurio had told them countless stories of his new friend, from his failure at mastering ballet to his newfound love of piano. “Yurio’s told us so much about you.”

The kid stiffened at Viktor’s words, glancing at Yurio before replying, “I-I’m Otabek. Nice to meet you.”

“That’s Viktor,” Yurio said from under the towel Yuuri was using to dry his hair. “He’s Katsudon’s babysitter.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Your dad has a babysitter?”

Yuuri choked on air, flushing when Viktor burst out laughing. A considerable number of parents, and even the students practicing their forms, turned to look as he doubled over laughing. The older man wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling and uncaring for the eyes that were locked on him as he said: “It’s very complicated.”

 _“Anyway_ —” Yuuri cut in, glaring at Viktor. “Beka, how’re your piano lessons going?”

“He got a part in our recital!” Yurio cut in, grin huge. “He’s amazing!”

Otabek flushed at the praise. Yuuri shook his head, laughing. “You should let Otabek answer questions once in a while, Yurio.” He turned back to the stony-faced child. “What song are you playing?”

“Once Upon a December,” Otabek replied, hands playing with the hem of his shirt. “And my piano teacher is friends with the ballet instructor, so.”

“Wow!” Viktor gasped. “You can play that? I _love_ that song!”

Yuuri had to stop himself from laughing when Otabek actually had to take a step back, obviously unaccustomed to Viktor’s enthusiasm about _everything_. Instead he pulled out a paper bag from his backpack, the contents still a bit warm. He handed them to Yurio with a nod. The kid grinned in response, adorable and hilarious with both his fangs gone.

He turned to Otabek and thrust it at the older boy’s face. “Me and Katsudon made _piroshki_ last night. These are for you.”  

 “ _Ne_ —” The boy opened up the bag and gaped. He met Yurio’s expectant face, blushing as he sputtered out a thank you.

Yurio smiled triumphantly. “It’s no problem.”

With that they left for home, Yurio securely bundled up in his coat. Viktor went ahead to his condo, which left Yuuri and Yurio on a half-empty bus ride back home. The bus windows were closed tight, leaving the biting cold outside the glass doors. Light chatter from the few passengers on board with them eased Yuuri into partial slumber.   

A tug on his arm shook him awake. They were half-way to their stop. Yuuri looked down and saw that Yurio was looking at his shoes, completely ignoring the Neko Atsume game he was playing on Yuuri’s phone. He usually had something important to say when he didn’t meet Yuuri’s eyes. “What is it?”

Yurio’s one hand fiddled with the buttons of his coat. “Beka, he, um— asked if I wanted to come over. And um, play video games.”

Yuuri blinked. “Oh, like a sleepover?”

“He says his mama is fine with vam-vampires.” Yurio quickly said. His large green eyes flicked up from the buttons of his coat to meet with Yuuri’s for a second. “It’s okay if I can’t.”

“Well,” Yuuri grinned. “What if I say you can?”

The little vampire’s head snapped up so quick Yuuri almost gasped, unprepared for the bone-crushing hug Yuri gave him. With most of the air knocked out of him, he almost didn’t notice the stares from across the bus. Keyword being almost.

He wrapped his arms around Yurio tighter and laughed, internally smirking when the elderly man sitting across them turned around with a gruff sound. One downside to living in the suburbs had been the much older neighbors, most of them glad to stare and whisper without shame whenever Yuuri and Yurio passed by.

Yuri was chattering excitedly (a rare thing) for the rest of the ride, kicking up the piles of snow that had gathered at the sides of the road when they got off. As they climbed the two flights of stairs to their apartment the child seemed to reach a chanting phase. “I’m so excited, so excited.”

“After dinner let’s pack up your stuff, yeah?” Yuuri suggested. A resounding hum of agreement was all he got in reply. “You should drink two bags tonight just in case.”

They took off their shoes and coats in the threshold, Yurio slipping off his shoes and coat so quickly Yuuri barely managed to catch him before the kid started running after Vicchan and Potya. “Uh-uh. You’re going to take a bath while I make dinner.”

A pout. “I thought we were gonna pack up my stuff?”

“After,” Yuuri nudged him into the direction of the bathroom. “Come on, you need to get that sweat off or you’ll get a cold.”

“ _But_ _I don’t get colds_ ,” Yurio mumbled in Russian, and if it had been the first month Yuuri had adopted him he wouldn’t have understood, but the words were so commonly repeated between them now that he’d gotten the meaning down without translation. He dragged his stocked feet against the floor, but still made his way towards the bathroom. Yuuri chuckled.

Within a few minutes Yuuri had a pot of this morning’s miso soup boiling, potatoes and enoki mushrooms added to make the simple broth heartier. Salmon fillets sizzled in a pan beside the pot.

Yuuri checked the rice to water ratio and after deeming it suitable, plugged in the rice cooker and turned to the refrigerator. Mr. Plisetsky used to keep his and Yurio’s blood rations in the freezer, so Yuuri did the same, picking out two pints. He counted the remainder, promising to himself that he’d get some more after dropping off Yurio tomorrow. The employees at Hasetsu’s rationing center had been skeptical when he’d come asking for blood for his adopted son, but since the news outlets had blasted his and Yurio’s name on every channel in Japan, the branch Yuuri frequented in Tokyo had no problem with it.

He put the pints into a saucepan of boiling water. Viktor’s nagging echoed around the back of his mind.

Yuuri snipped off a corner and poured it into a glass, the heat coming from it indicating it would probably be too hot if Yurio were to drink it right now. It would get the chance to cool down before the kid had to drink it, so by then it would be the perfect temperature. Yuuri rinsed off a metal straw and plopped it in.

He yawned and closed his eyes, listening to the faint sounds of Vicchan and Potya playing somewhere.

Tomorrow would be his day off, Yuri had a great new friend, and snow had started to slowly fall outside, small white flecks dotting the dark sky.

A bit after dinner his family called, and Yuuri listened to Yurio tell his family about ballet practice and his sleepover the following day, his voice switching back and forth from his stumbling Japanese to English. Mari asked Yuuri for advice about some online investments she’d been wheedling their parents to agree to, and by then Yurio had fallen asleep, head pillowed on Yuuri’s lap.

“ _I’ll just call back tomorrow.”_

_“Hm? Why?”_

Mari pulled off her reading glasses, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “ _My eyes aren’t used to reading such tiny words, especially in kanji. Must be getting old, huh?”_

 _“Ha,”_ Yuuri chuckled. “ _Wanna trade? I can’t see anything without my glasses, I’d kill to have eyesight like yours, Nee-san.”_

Mari cackled.

With that, they bade each other goodnight, the video footage of his sister cutting into black as the call ended. Yuuri carried Yurio into his room and tucked him in, Potya and Vicchan settling down at his feet. Yuuri retreated into his own room, finishing up a bit of work on his laptop before exchanging messages with Phichit. They chatted for a while until Phichit’s next class came up and Yuuri finally settled into his bed, falling asleep to the constant hum of the heat pump.

He dreamed of dazzlingly white sand and amazingly blue water. Someone ran down the shore, their feet kicking up sand that glittered in the sun like snowflakes. The water was a perfect match for Viktor’s eyes—

A few hours later and he was out of bed before his mind realized what was happening, the noise from outside his door jarring him awake too fast. He shoved on his glasses and nearly tore through the sliding door, a meter stick he’d used to measure out dimensions for Yurio’s bed the only weapon he held. “Yurio!”

A terrifying crunching sound was all he got in reply.

Yuuri froze, barefoot on the cold tile of the kitchen. From where he was he could see that the front door was still shut, the locks engaged and undisturbed. The sound repeated, and he turned his gaze.

The freezer door was open, swinging on its hinges. The plastic cubby that held Yurio’s rations was on the floor and was most probably where the crash had come from, shards of melting ice and pints of frozen blood spilling from its cracked cover. A kitchen stool was knocked over just under the open freezer door. Yurio sat hunched over a foot away from it.

Yuuri cursed, heart hammering as he kneeled in front of the child. He took hold of Yuri’s shoulders. “You scared me half to death! What in the world made you think this was a good idea? And using the chair—you’re glad you hadn’t fallen on your head!” A terrible hardness pressed against his ribs, and though it lessened dramatically at seeing that Yurio was (more or less) unharmed, it still ached fiercely. Yuuri let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you hurt any—” _crunch._

A shiver ran down Yuuri’s spine. From where he was kneeling he could only see Yurio’s hands, the small fingers covered in blood. The frozen blood bag they clutched at was torn open, plastic jagged around the opening. The surface of the frozen blood was liquid from exposure to the warmer air.

“ _Hungry.”_

Yuuri looked up, flinching at the empty look in the child’s eyes. The usual vibrant green was glassy and blank, the skin around his eyes dark and sunken. His heart squeezed. “Oh, Yurio.”

He held the boy’s face, his skin burning up with fever. “It’s going to be alright, okay? You’re fine.” His fingers shook as they brushed back his hair.

His feet slipped on the mixture of blood and water on the floor, his body thankfully able to stumble into the bedroom and find his phone even with his mind spinning in all directions. He had to get more blood for Yurio, there was no way the rations would be enough. But he needed someone to look after Yurio, and what if Viktor didn’t pick up? He couldn’t leave his kid alone. And how would he get Yurio to drink his medicine? Would the dosage change because his fangs were growing in? He’d miss so many ballet practices—

 _“Hello? Yuuri?”_ Viktor’s voice was raspy and thickly accented. _“It’s the dead of night.”_

Yuuri stared at his phone screen for a split second, not realizing he’d managed to dial the older man’s number. He stepped back into the kitchen. “Viktor, you need to come over right away.”

 _“What? It’s the middle of the night, the buses aren’t running.”_ Sheets rustled on the other line. “ _And what is that beeping sound?”_

Empty plastic blood bags littered the kitchen floor. The light from the open freezer flooded the dark room with harsh white light. Yurio was still hunched over on the floor. “It’s—It’s the freezer. I’ve left it open.”

“ _Hungry.”_ Yurio looked up at the sound of Yuuri’s voice. Pieces of plastic hung from his mouth and were stuck to his face. Blood stained his pajamas. “ _Hungry, hungry.”_

“ _Is that Yurio?”_

Yuuri winced, ignoring the question.

Now that he’d had the time to think he found himself calmer, the single time Yurio had caught the flu coming back to him. It was a fever; he could handle that. Yuuri clamped his phone between his ears and shoulder and nudged the freezer door closed, looking through the medicine cabinet. “I know it’s really, _really_ late; but I need someone to look after Yurio while I get some more blood.”

A creak from unoiled hinges. “ _Blood?_ Yuuri, _can’t that wait for tomorrow?”_

“But I think his fangs are growing in, and he’s almost finished the rations we have at home. He has a fever too, and those usually take an extra pint just to break.”

 _“What—”_ He found some Kobayashi fever patches and turned back to Yurio.

 _“_ Hang on,” Viktor’s voice cut off, Yuuri placing his phone on the counter.

“Come here, Yurio, this’ll help with the fever.” It wouldn’t really, since only blood could truly heal vampires from sickness, but Yuuri found the patches helped with the discomfort. He crouched down, wrapping an arm around the child’s middle and hoisting him onto the kitchen counter. He still had a vacant look about him and was deadweight in Yuuri’s arms. Yuuri tamped down the dread creeping up his chest. It was fine. Everything was fine.

His hands quickly tore open the box and peeled one of the gel cooling pads. He stuck the gel pad to Yurio’s forehead and smiled faintly. Other than the intense hunger, Yurio’s fever seemed to be like the ones Mari had quite often when they were kids during the fall. He was breathing quite heavily though, great gulping breaths through his nose and slow exhales through his mouth.

Viktor’s voice leaked from his phone’s tiny speakers, the sound reminding Yuuri that he’d called. “Sorry, I—”

 “ _Don’t touch him!”_ Viktor screamed. Makkachin yipped in the background. “ _You need to stay in another room, go now!”_

Before Yuuri could even think of a response he felt Yurio’s head thud heavily onto his shoulder. The child breathed in deep. _He was smelling him._

He’d seen movies, of course. And read books. He’d gotten an IV needle stuck into him the one time he’d been admitted to a hospital to get his tonsils removed, as well as the extensive testing he needed to get done to get into America for college. But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

Yuuri pulled away but was too slow, Yurio managing to grab hold of one flailing arm. There was one searing moment before the child’s mouth closed over his skin.

Yuri had no fangs, so instead it was blunt, human teeth that bit into Yuuri’s forearm. Yuuri cried out more from surprise than actual pain, his whole body going numb from shock. The strength Yuri had as he bit down on him was unrelenting and Yuuri felt is skin break under the blunt pressure of the kid’s teeth. Blood pooled around the seam of his lips, red and burning hot.

Instinct kicked in a moment later and Yuuri wrenched his arm back, skin tearing under Yurio’s teeth. A sharp spark of pain zipped down Yuuri’s spine. He gritted his teeth, free hand coming up to clamp onto Yurio’s jaw, the grip of teeth on his arm loosening by a hair. He pulled again and with a final hair-raising rip, was free.

Goosebumps rose all over his skin at seeing the wound that was left, jagged cuts where Yurio’s teeth had dug in. Blood poured out of them steadily, runnels of red that ran down his arm and dripped down to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exam is over and i think i did ok!! next chapter will finally have the e-rated content everyone's looking for and it's coming when it's finished which is a mystery even to me haha


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> viktor's backstory, as well as the smutty goodness this fic's rating promised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKJHSDAKJDDKJ there was no way I could finish this fic by my deadline so hahah here's the 3rd chapter days after the 29th

“ _Feeling better?”_

Yurio nodded weakly. His eyes were still closed, a furrow in his brow. Viktor slipped the back of his hand under his chin, feeling cool sweat on the child’s neck where there had previously been skin hot to the touch. He picked at the edge of the lukewarm fever patch and tossed it into the waste bin full of empty blood bags.

It’d taken quite a bit of force to get Yurio to lay down and _stay_ laying down, especially after he’d gotten a good sip of fresh human blood. The fresh blood had given him a vampire’s version of a sugar rush, the kid seeming to bounce off the walls, looking for more of it. He finally settled for the frozen kind when the effects of Yuuri’s blood wore off and his fever set back in, his need for nutrition winning over preferences for taste. It had taken three pints of Viktor’s own blood ration to break his fever.

As Viktor watched the child’s chest slowly rise and fall he felt the last vestiges of his adrenaline drain away, his eyes growing heavy. The kitchen stool he was sitting on was probably the most uncomfortable thing ever, but even then he was certain he could make do, his head slowly dipping down. The little poodle on his lap snuggled into him, probably glad that the whole affair was over with.

At least ten minutes must’ve passed but once the front door clicked shut and Viktor shook awake it felt like it’d only been a moment. He stared down at the tatami floors, his head hanging down over his chest heavily. His neck ached.

When Yuuri walked in he was stretching it, slowly turning his face side to side and wincing as the sore muscles were pulled taut. He turned to where the younger man was standing, the sliding door opened halfway. His face peeked past it, eyes large and rimmed with red. “H-How is he?”

Viktor found enough energy to smile weakly. “Asleep.”

Yuuri barely managed to return it. He seemed to pause for a second before he finally slid he door fully open and walked in, injured arm bent slightly. He pressed a few fingers to Yurio’s forehead. A relieved grin broke across his features, making him look even younger than he was. “His fever’s broken.”

“It took quite a of bit of blood,” Viktor said. “He’ll need more when he wakes up.”

“I’ve got four days’ worth in the fridge. That’s all they would allow me to take since I came off-schedule.” Yuuri chewed the inside of his cheek. “Will it be enough?”

“Yes,” Viktor lied. The blood would probably last until tomorrow night at most. But Yuuri didn’t need to know that.

The younger man didn’t look like he’d been fooled but he nodded anyway, eyes still glued to the child. After a minute he braced hard against the edge of the bed and stood up. “I guess I’ll just…go.”

Viktor perked up. “I’ll make us some tea.”

And though Yuuri looked like he wanted to refuse he couldn’t, especially since Viktor was already halfway out the door, Vicchan cradled in his arms. He gave the dog one last nuzzle before setting him onto the floor.

The kitchen had been cleaned somewhat, a bloodstained mop leaning against the side of the refrigerator. Viktor had been over enough times to know where things were generally located, easily plugging in the electric kettle and finding the mugs. Yuuri was more of a coffee drinker, so his fancy tinned coffee grounds and espresso machine were leaps and bounds from his little cardboard box filled with tea bags.

Plastic rustled from behind him and Viktor turned. Yuuri was at the kitchen sink, fingers picking at the blood-soaked knot he’d made on the kitchen towel wrapped around his wound. A plastic bag filled with gauze sat beside last night’s dishes.

“Good thing you remembered.” Viktor ventured, slowly approaching. He stood beside Yuuri. “Here, I’ll help.”

Yuuri nodded, presenting his arm. Viktor wasn’t any better than him at undoing the knot, but soon enough he got it untied, his fingers just on this side of shaky as he pulled the makeshift bandage off. It was stuck where the blood had clotted the most, Yuuri’s fingers pale against the edge of the sink as Viktor did his best to peel off the cloth without opening up the wound again.

The words tumbled out of his mouth as he was coaxing the cloth off a big patch of dried blood. “Does… Yurio scare you now?”

It’d been his first thought the moment he came in hours ago, Yuuri wide-eyed and pale as he sat in the entryway. Somehow, he’d managed to get Yurio into his room without causing anymore injury to himself. But even when the child couldn’t see him, he could still certainly smell Yuuri’s blood, his hiccupping cries loud and echoing through the entire apartment. Yuuri had resorted to sitting as far from the child to lessen the chances of agitating him further.

The man’s arm jerked back. “Of—Of course not!” Yuuri cried, hissing when the action opened up one of the deeper wounds. He looked back up and their gazes met, Yuuri glowering openly. The same anger from their first meeting tinted his brown eyes red. “I don’t know what humans did for you to hate me this much, but just to clarify— Yurio being a vampire will never scare me. Or make me regret adopting him.”

“Yuuri—"

“I need to wash this,” Yuuri mumbled, voice strained. His fingers fumbled for the faucet.

After the blood and fibers from the towel had been washed off the bruising left around the cuts could be seen, purple around the edges of the deepest cuts and yellow splotches here and there. Viktor hadn’t seen the cut before Yuuri wrapped it up with the kitchen towel, but he knew from the look on the younger man’s face that the bruises had only become visible now.

Yuuri was very obviously upset, but he still let Viktor wrap up and medicate his wound, eyes uneasy as he presented his arm. Viktor had to hold tight to Yuuri’s wrist to keep the man from wrenching away as he applied the antiseptic, his fist paler than snow as it clenched against the pain.

The air was stiff and awkward.

Viktor wasn’t good with emotions. He was a master of his own, able to bend his feelings into a box to keep them hidden, only to let them out when he was writing. But with other people’s emotions he was a mess, and right then only half of his brain was focused with wrapping up Yuuri’s injury, the other half going this way and that to try and mend the situation. And as Viktor looked at the deep frown pulling down the Japanese man’s mouth he realized that he _really_ wanted to mend the situation.

Halfway through he felt Yuuri’s fingers grab onto his shirt, the action jarring him into speaking. “I’m not— not very good at things like this.”

“Just talk. Ta-Talk to me, please. About anything.”

“Ok.” The cotton ball soaked with antiseptic hovered over Yuuri’s newly-opened wound. It was one of the deeper ones, the skin torn and a deep purple. Viktor tightened his hold over Yuuri’s wrist and dabbed the medicine on, the younger man biting back a curse.

As he bandaged the wound Viktor talked. “Um, I was born in St. Petersburg. No parents, just an aunt and uncle, like Yurio.”

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted. His eyes were squinting from the pain, his mouth forming a small, disbelieving ‘o’. “You don’t have to—"

“I want to,” Victor replied. “Neither my uncle nor my aunt ever told me where my parents went or who they were, just that they were gone and they would take care of me. They only lasted until I turned twelve.

“I had long hair because Uncle told me my mother had long hair the same color as mine; I refused to cut it then, even when there was a lice infestation at the orphanage.”

Yuuri let out a breathless laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

Viktor met his eyes and giggled. He unrolled the small bit of gauze Yuuri had picked up.

“I was at the orphanage for a while, just talking to Yakov—you know, your Mr. Feltsman, since back then he was always overseeing things there and introducing us kids to our new parents. No one really wanted me since I was too old and was a boy with long hair. I was just waiting to turn eighteen so I wouldn’t need to live at the orphanage anymore. And then I wrote the poem.”

He felt Yuuri stiffen. He’d been tying the ends of the bandage closed. Viktor was cupping his face before he realized what he was doing, Yuuri turning the brightest shade of red. “Sorry. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Yuuri pursed his lips. “Please continue.”

The kettle pinged somewhere behind them. Viktor continued.

“It was for a school contest, see. Everyone in my class wrote one, so I did too, if just for the grade it gave me. But then I won, and it was printed in the papers.” Viktor finished tying off the gauze. He supposed he could stop there since Yuuri didn’t need a distraction from the pain anymore. But as he turned back to the kettle he decided he could continue, he never liked starting stories he couldn’t finish, and Yuuri was a good listener.

“Yakov was adamant at first, since she was a human, but she was adamant too.” White steam puffed up from the kettle’s spout as Viktor poured out the water. “And I was already fifteen. It was either her or another three years in the orphanage before I’m kicked out.”

Yuuri joined him at the counter, bumping their shoulders. Viktor felt eyes on him as he spooned jam into his mug, tinting the black tea into a dark burgundy. “She bought me Makkachin the day I came to her house. She must’ve been as small as Vicchan back then.”

Of course, that had also been the last time Viktor had spoken to her, save for the few notes they left for each other, mostly to inform about their whereabouts. She had books to write and even more to translate, and so for the first few months Viktor was more often than not stuck in her beautiful glass castle, training Makkachin and reading. He shrugged, “I knew even before getting there that I’d been a charity case, a publicity stunt, to get her writing across to vampires. A renowned author adopting a gifted vampire child, bridging the gap between the two species, it made a good story.”

Yuuri looked like he wanted to cry.

“S-She really wasn’t terrible though.” Viktor amended. “Just not there—and though I tried not to care, tried to drown myself in everything I couldn’t afford in the orphanage, I guess I really was a little kid back then. I yearned for her attention, her company.” Reading each and every one of the Russian poems she translated into English had taught him his first words of the foreign language.

“Yurio’s not a charity case.” Yuuri said, voice just above a mumble. “Or a publicity stunt, or a good story.” Viktor shifted his gaze and saw that the younger man was staring intently at his tea, fingers white against the porcelain. In a moment Yuuri was looking up, searching his face before finally meeting his eyes and locking their gazes. Surprisingly, this was the second time Yuuri had leveled his piercing stare at Viktor, the first time back in the restrooms of _Merci_ nearly four months ago. “He’s my kid.”

His glasses were fogged up from the steam. All of Yuuri (or at least the parts Viktor’s been shown) seemed to be condensed into this moment— beautiful, anxious, stubborn, and endlessly endearing.

Viktor chuckled despite himself. “ _Hai, Hai._ I know.”

“Wow,” Yuuri murmured, eyes widening as he stepped back. “your accent is terrible.” He laughed, and Viktor felt a terrible ache in his chest. Somehow this man had wormed himself into his heart and wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

* * *

 

Makkachin pushed her head past the small opening, sniffing around curiously. She’d never visited Yuuri’s house before, Viktor usually alone when he visits the human and his adopted son. The leash he had looped around his fingers tightens before Makkachin yips and runs forward, pulling Viktor into the living room with a cry. “Makka!”

Yuuri, who was standing over the landline, flinched and turned around. “Uh, that was just one of my neighbors. Anyway, thank you so much, Yurio will be so happy when I tell him.”

With a tug on her leash Makkachin sat down, black eyes trained on Yuuri as he exchanged a few more words before putting down the phone. Viktor finished slipping off his shoes, shrugging off his coat. It was far too thin for the winter, snowflakes drenching it in cold water that seeped into the back of Viktor’s shirt.

“Aw, it’s been a while, huh?” Yuuri called out, kneeling down in front of Makkachin. He’d somehow gotten a towel without Viktor noticing and was wiping away the fine layer of wet that covered the poodle’s brown curls. Viktor unclipped the leash and strode past, depositing the few bags the blood bank had allowed him to take. They seemed skeptical since they knew Viktor was transitioning to pills, but eventually they were glad to switch out the remaining half of Viktor’s supply of pills for a few bags of frozen blood.

Once he made it back to the living room Yuuri was happily praising and cooing at a mostly-dry Makkachin, the old dog looking pleased with herself as she was petted even if she understood none of the Japanese the younger man was saying. Viktor chuckled before he could stop himself.

Yuuri turned back to him, red in the ears. Viktor shrugged. “Don’t stop on my account, you look adorable.”

“I called Otabek’s house and told them Yurio wouldn’t be able to come.” Yuuri said in reply, straightening. A buzzer sounded from the kitchen. “—ah, come on, it’s time for lunch.”

Viktor watched as Yuuri pattered around the kitchen, spooning rice porridge into three bowls before sprinkling them with green onion and _umeboshi_. “Here,” He handed one of the bowls to Viktor. The hot steam from the porridge carried over the scents of both the pickled plums and the green onions. “You can add soy sauce if you want, most people get pretty bored with the taste unless they’re sick.”

With that they entered Yuuri’s bedroom, his room closer to the bathroom and thus easier for Yurio than his own room. Yurio was awake when they came in, the boy looking small as he noticed them, the squishy ball he rolled around the bed for Potya to catch bouncing to the floor. The cat bounded after it, sidling up next to Yuuri’s calf when the younger man pulled up a chair beside the bed.

Yurio took one look at the bowl and frowned. _“No.”_

Yuuri looked up at Viktor. The child still spoke primarily in Russian, and couldn’t seem to recognize either of them, save for the fact that Yuuri was the one that fed him and Viktor was the one that understood what he was saying.

“He’s just being a bit difficult,” Viktor explained. He leaned down. “ _Yurio, you really should eat. Blood can only go so far.”_

The boy looked up at him, glaring weakly. Viktor nodded at Yuuri, the man quickly setting down his own bowl and dipping a spoon into Yurio’s serving. “Come on, just a bite won’t hurt.”

Yurio leveled his glare at Yuuri then, before grudgingly opening his mouth. He took one bite and slowly chewed, Yuuri looked relieved as the child swallowed. Viktor grabbed a chair and sat across from the younger man, slowly downing his own food, the warmth distracting him from the headache slowly forming on one side of his head. He quickly finished his bowl and stood to get another.

When he came back, Yurio had gotten tired of the porridge and was playing with Potya again. Beside him, Yuuri was eating his own lunch. In the dark ages vampires often took one or two humans and locked them in a chamber where their children were, leaving the child to drink all the blood they needed for the growth of their fangs. It was the first time Viktor had ever seen a human stay so close to a child while their fangs grew in. Children were easier to handle compared to an adult vampire of course, but the threat of being bitten was still very high, especially with the ever-present hunger that enveloped the minds of children during this time.

As Yuuri ate Yurio would sometimes catch a whiff of his blood and turn curiously to stare at the man, a few times even opening his mouth on instinct. Yuuri would always just smile softly in reply, ignoring the very real threat the child posed.

As they gathered the bowls back for washing, Yuuri hissed, grabbing at his arm.

“What happened?”

“I just bumped into something, it’s fine.” Yuuri said, still wincing.

Viktor narrowed his eyes and walked over, taking hold of Yuuri’s wrist and pulling it towards him. “Let’s take a look, maybe it peeled off one of the scabs.”

“Viktor—” Yuuri snapped, covering Viktor’s hand with his own. He nodded his head in the direction of the child, now looking at the both of them.

“What?” Viktor asked. “Your wound’s bathed in antiseptic, it’ll be unnoticeable by smell.”

Yuuri wrung his wrist free. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

With a final glance everything finally clicked, and Viktor paled. _Of course, how could he be so stupid?_ He looked again at the soft smile on Yurio’s face as he played with his cat, imagining how crushed the kid would feel if he saw what he had done to his adoptive father. He sighed and followed Yuuri out, letting Makkachin come in when he realized the old dog had stayed by the door the whole time they ate. The second Yuuri reached the sink he pulled up his sleeve and poked at his bandages, checking if there was any bleeding.

He looked up when he felt Viktor approach, smiling softly. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you didn’t want Yurio knowing he bit you.”

“The wound is healing up pretty well,” Yuuri replied. “And it’s okay. I just don’t want him to beat himself up about it.”  

Viktor hummed in agreement, nudging the younger man aside. He smiled cheekily when Yuuri looked up at him questioningly. “You’ve been cooking for me every time I’m over at your house, I should at least wash up. And try not to stifle your wound, at least roll up your sleeves when Yurio isn’t around.”

Yuuri laughed, leaning on the side of the sink. His eyes glowed with amusement. “Is Viktor Nikiforov actually being nice to me? If only I knew you’d feel sorry for me earlier; I could’ve faked a broken limb and had you cleaning the apartment for me.”

“Or maybe I’m being nice because you’ve proven me to be a terrible judge of character.” Viktor said, rinsing off the soap from the last bowl. “And that I was a complete ass to Yuuri Katsuki, who turned out to be a great person and dad.”

Viktor actually saw the red blossom over Yuuri’s entire face and ears. “You— You could’ve just said sorry like a normal person.” He adjusted his glasses, looking off to the right and baring his neck. “And you’re forgiven.”

Suddenly Viktor breathed and Yuuri’s scent hit him full force, the clean smell of his shampoo mixing with the undertones of his skin and his _blood_ , pumping hot and perfect through his veins. Viktor flinched, stepping back suddenly. Yuuri turned, eyebrow raised. “Viktor?”

Oh god, Yuuri’s blush reached down to his neck. Viktor licked his lips. What would it feel like to—

_No._

“I—!” Viktor shook himself out of his own head, looking down. “I’ll just… I’m taking the dogs for a walk, bye!”

“Oh—"

Before Viktor could get any more dangerous ideas, he grabbed Makkachin and Vicchan’s leashes and called the two dogs over, body calming down as he clipped their leashes on. He slipped on his freezing cold jacket and went out the door, barely remembering to bring along an umbrella.

The dogs were rowdier than usual, a few days having passed between the last time the two poodles had met. They pulled insistently at their leashes all the way to the park, Viktor preoccupied enough to stumble at least twice on his way there. When he finally unclipped their leashes and let them run around Makkachin dove into the piles of snow shoveled off the stone walkway, Vicchan choosing to daintily prance around behind her.

Viktor sat in one of the freezing park benches and let himself be enveloped in the cold, mind in a semi-haze as he watched his warm breath puff out like smoke. All vampires had a lower body temperature compared to humans and were more comfortable in cold weather. But Viktor always had an affinity for it, spending entire nights out in his aunt’s garden or choosing to hide in the orphanage’s rusty playground (which had been replaced after a hefty donation from his first novel’s profits) in the dead of Russian winter.

When he finally rounded up the dogs it was nearing sundown, the blue tinge in the pale sky turning a shade darker. Fatigue was setting in again, the cold only going so far to distract him from his hunger. So before he could second-guess himself Viktor was entering a convenience store on the side of the road.

It was a big one, a grocery almost, with a branch that carried blood bags for vampires. A smaller, family owned store would’ve been cheaper, but Viktor didn’t feel like shocking another family establishment, what with him being both a foreigner and a different species.

He picked up an ice candy as well as an ice cream cone, waiting as the employee worked at the machine. Behind him a woman picked out a pack of cigarettes, her face flushed form the cold. Viktor found that even with the scent of blood coming from the blood bags and the presence of more than a few humans around him, he didn’t feel the urge to bite anyone, even the woman that Viktor noticed also flushed around the neck. And that was _normal_ , even on his hungriest day Viktor never had the urge to bite people, since he always knew that packaged blood would always be available anyway. And drinking the bagged stuff wouldn’t cost you a few years in prison.

In the eighties fads came up of course, of getting a human partner so that you could drink from them any time. Special papers and passes had been made, and the pairs were not always romantically linked. Viktor had been a small child when he heard of a vampire accidentally draining all the blood from their partner during a feeding. The fad had died out into obscurity soon after.

“ _Please enjoy.”_ The employee placed the ice lolly down on the counter, one hand holding out his ice cream and the other his change.   

“ _Thanks.”_ Viktor grabbed the desserts and huddled down to eat, the chill from his food spreading from his belly towards his limbs the more he ate. Both the temperature and the sweetness distracted him from the actual thirst he felt and more importantly served as a distraction to the fatigue slowly curling around him.

Makkachin and Vicchan stayed huddled under the table as he ate.

Viktor watched through the large windows as a few people walked down the street, heavily bundled up. This street was closer to the suburbs, and thus fewer people passed by, the walk signals flashing green to red without anyone crossing.

He watched as a salaryman hailed a taxi, probably one of the few that worked the night shift. Soon after that two schoolgirls sat on a bus stop bench and shared a cigarette. An elderly woman carrying an umbrella and a bag of groceries bustled past.

Viktor had imagined himself people watching in Tokyo ever since he’d planned for this trip, and this was the first time it’d gone so well. All the times prior had been in busy Japanese ramen shops or late night bars in _Ni-chome_ , all of which had only gotten Viktor into trouble or a one night stand. Everything he’d written since coming to Japan had either been too similar to his previous novel, or didn’t have anything to do with a big city’s feeling of loneliness. He sighed, keeping the imagery of the girls’ lit cigarette and the walk signals reflecting off piles of snow for when he could really sit and write. He tossed the empty container of cup noodles into the trash and made his way home.

It seemed Yakov had been right.

When Viktor arrived Yuuri’s voice floated into his ears. He was speaking in Japanese, the words spoken in a crisp and clipped way that was absent whenever the younger man spoke in English.

He hung up his jacket again and dried off both dogs. He was soon finished and found Yuuri sitting on the living room couch, his laptop open on the coffee table and wearing a pair of earphones. An older woman was on the screen, hair pushed back, bleached at the ends, and face strangely familiar. She saw Viktor from the back and spoke, Yuuri turning in response. He pulled one of his earbuds out.  

“Dinner’s in the kitchen.” He said, smiling.

Viktor only saw his full lips, sweet and pink. He nodded mutely and slipped into the kitchen.

Even with his stomach already full he pulled out the ice tray, tapping the entire tray into a bowl to chew on. His eyes lingered on the blood bags there as well, before they looked over at the closed door of Yuuri’s room where Yurio lay. He sighed.

Sitting on one of the kitchen stools, Viktor noisily crunched down on the ice, staring blankly at the fridge. The cold numbed his mouth and the smells of the kitchen overwhelmed his senses enough for his body to calm down for a bit. 

As he chewed Yuuri’s scent washed over him again and he nearly choked, swallowing the ice still in his mouth. He coughed roughly.

“Viktor,” There was just _something_ with the way Yuuri pronounced his name, the syllables coming out of his mouth different from when anyone else said it. It was strangely comforting, or it had been, now his voice sent shivers down Viktor’s spine. Yuuri probably felt it too, with his hand rubbing soothing circles over his back. It was hot, each touch like a hot iron branding Viktor’s skin through his clothes. He leaned into it helplessly.

“Have you been feeling under the weather?” Yuuri’s voice shocked him out of his half-trance. His scent was thick, filling his lungs with every breath. “Maybe you should drink some blood.”

“I’ve been taking the pills.” Viktor lied through his teeth. “They’re probably taking a while to digest.”

He shrugged off Yuuri’s hand, standing up slowly. His vision swam. Not able to stop himself, Viktor clamped a hand over his mouth and nose. Behind his hand, his mouth was open, fangs pressing insistently against his palm.

Without a word, he breezed over to the balcony, sliding open the door. Outside, the very still air was frigid.

Quick footsteps came to a sudden stop when Viktor shook his head.

“It’s freezing outside.” Yuuri offered.

It took everything in Viktor to turn around. The man was standing in the middle of the living room, a small sliver of skin between the hem of his shirt and his sweatpants. Something else stirred in Viktor’s body. His hand stayed clamped tight, a barrier between them. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Viktor was very thankful the door to Yuuri’s balcony was covered with a curtain, rendering the man blind to the very embarrassing image of Viktor sliding down onto the floor. Now he was cold and didn’t even have any food to distract himself with. At least the snow had stopped coming down, the air all about him cold but still, as if it was frozen as well. The dark skyline Yuuri’s apartment afforded glittered dimly through the fog.

On the other side of the door Viktor could hear Yuuri bustling about, doors sliding open and shut. He was worrying.

Viktor pulled himself up, groaning when a headache splintered through his skull. A set of industrial deck chairs and a table occupied the balcony, a long dead houseplant left there by accident. Viktor sat on one of the chairs and let himself fall asleep, the sounds of Yuuri from the other side lulling his hunger down to a manageable level.

* * *

 

 

_“Viktor,” Yuuri’s voice._

_Warm, kind eyes smiled up at him. There was a press of something soft against his lips and he opened them, Yuuri’s tongue hot and firm against his own._

_A pair of legs wound tight around his waist, tensing, clutching, and so, so warm. “Vitya, Vitya.”_

_“Yuuri…”_

_“Bite me.”_

 

Viktor startled awake, his head pounding. It was too hot, the heavy blanket around him stuffy and heavy. He groaned, arms weakly trying to push the covers away. The heat amplified his hunger.

“Hey—”

A hand clamped down on his arm and Yuuri’s face came into view, features lax with relief. The dimness lent him an almost unreal presence. “Thank god. Okay, stay there, I’ll go heat up some blood for you.”

His hand gently pushed Viktor’s chest down and he landed back onto the couch. His head was spinning.

“I’ll be—” Before Yuuri could stand up Viktor grabbed hold of his hand and tugged him closer, the force causing him to sit up halfway. It also made his head feel like it was split right in half.

He gasped at the pain, reeling back onto the pillows. His grip on Yuuri’s wrist held firm though, the younger man having to brace himself against the sides of the couch to stop himself from toppling over. “Don’t.”

“You’re getting really sick, Viktor. I visited the blood center, I know you exchanged your pills. At least drink the blood you switched out for them.”

“No,” Viktor shook his head. “Yurio needs it more than I do, I can… hold out for a bit more.”

Yuuri said something in Japanese, and by the sound of it, it was a curse, his face twisted into a worried frown. After a beat, he spoke again. “When… when was the last time you’ve had blood, Viktor? Liquid blood.”

It took a while for Viktor to think of a reply. “Two days, I think. Ah, two days before Yurio got sick.”

“Dammit!” Yuuri gritted out. If Viktor wasn’t reeling from starvation he would have been shocked.

He moved again, and Viktor was sure he could’ve pulled away with a bit more force, but instead the man sat down, sighing heavily. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“The center wouldn’t give Yurio any more blood.” Viktor replied. At least the nausea kept his want for Yuuri at bay.

“Let me open up a bag—”

“I won’t drink it,” Viktor whispered. He fought against the pain behind his eyes and stared Yuuri down, communicating just how serious he was. “There’s barely enough to keep Yurio fed until he’s healed.”

When there was no reply Viktor closed his eyes. “Let me just… rest for a while.” He let go of Yuuri and tugged the covers away. “I won’t need the bla—”

Soft flesh pressed up against his mouth.

Viktor’s eyes snapped open, his mouth and nose assaulted by the smell. In a flash, he shoved Yuuri’s arm away, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. It watered behind the digits.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yuuri said softy. “I looked it up in case you wouldn’t drink the stuff in the freezer. There won’t even be a scar.”

Viktor couldn’t reply. He knew his eyes were blown wide, knew he probably looked terrifying; starved vampires were paler than anything and their irises had a ring of red around them. He could barely breathe beneath his hand, the air getting through the small gaps of his fingers always coming with the younger man’s smell. He pressed against his mouth tighter.

“You’ve seen me at the blood center; I’m clean and everything.” Yuuri reached out.

The pads of his fingers met Viktor’s knuckles, sending the older man bolting into a sitting position, back pressed painfully against the couch. Even as he tried hard not to breathe in his body was slowly growing warm in response to Yuuri’s closeness, the fatigue draining out of him replaced with hot adrenaline. He could feel the change slowly creep up on him, his mind tuning in to the soft spots of Yuuri’s body: wrist, thigh, and his favorite, the neck.

He managed to shake his head slowly when Yuuri’s fingers drew near for a second time. 

Yuuri smiled in reply, a pained edge heavy on one corner of his mouth. “I know I’m not really the first person you’d choose to drink blood from.” He let his hand fall. “I’ll go—um, heat some blood up anyways.”

Viktor caught Yuuri’s hand before it could land. “It’s—”

He gasped. He’d used the hand he kept over his mouth, and now Yuuri could see the way his fangs poked from his open and gasping mouth, his lips wet and pale like an animal’s.

No one had ever seen Viktor in this state. The humans that let him drink always saw him on a full stomach, suave and confident. They would’ve never let Viktor near them if they saw him like this: bloodthirsty and helpless.

And yet, Yuuri didn’t pull away.

He looked shocked of course, and more than a little afraid, but again his eyes burned brighter than starlight. He raised his free arm, this one wrapped in a bandage, and let the backs of his fingers gently run across Viktor’s cheek. “Let—let me help you, Viktor.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

Yuuri’s lips parted in silent surprise. 

Unable to contain himself, Viktor pulled Yuuri to him, the sudden strength that accompanied the bloodlust making the Japanese man weightless. His front was pressed flush to Viktor’s, close enough for Viktor to feel the rise and fall of his chest through their clothing. A moment hung still between them, Yuuri’s eyes blown wide.

“Yuuri, I—”

Plush lips met his, cutting off his words as well as his train of thought. His mind unspooled into blank surprise as Yuuri kissed him softly, the touch of his mouth feather-light and juvenile. Viktor gasped halfway through and Yuuri bit at his bottom lip. Not juvenile at all, then.

Viktor started kissing back, his arms winding tight around Yuuri’s middle, pulling the smaller man impossibly closer. An eternity (or more accurately, a few seconds) later and they pulled apart, Yuuri pressing a few chaste kisses to his mouth as he drew away. In the subdued lights Yuuri’s eyes glowed, staring at him through his dark lashes. “I trust you.”

Something painful stirred in Viktor’s chest.

Slowly, he caressed down Yuuri’s arms; once, twice, three times, before he finally let his fingers circle around Yuuri’s wrist. His other hand slipped beneath his sleeve and pulled it up and up, revealing unmarred flesh. He rubbed a thumb against the inside of the younger man’s wrist, ran a fingertip over a vein that rose along his forearm.

A flush spread down Yuuri’s neck and was all over his face and ears. Viktor grinned at him before placing a small kiss to the soft inside of his elbow.

Yuuri bit his lip. Viktor bit into his arm.

Right in the middle of the forearm, with the arm kept level. Viktor greatly preferred drinking from the neck. But it was easily one of the more delicate areas, and though Yuuri trusted him, he didn’t have the same faith that he’d be able to stop himself one he got a taste of the man’s blood.

Yuuri hissed as Viktor’s fangs broke the skin, Viktor certain that the pain was partially because he’d angled the bite a bit wrong. Which could be blamed on his current starved state, but he couldn’t be blamed for not feeling guilty when Yuuri squirmed so prettily.

As the anesthetic secreted by his fangs finally got into Yuuri’s system the younger man grew lax, his body heavy against Viktor’s. His blood was red-hot, toe-curling, and _delectable_ , flooding Viktor’s mouth so sweetly it nearly overwhelmed him.  

Drunk on his taste and scent, Viktor drank greatly, gulping down huge amounts. Sometimes Yuuri would sigh or gasp, but for most of the feed he was silent, softly shuddering in Viktor’s arms.

The blood’s heat flowed through him like ambrosia, each mouthful bringing back vitality to both his body and mind. But with each swallow he felt Yuuri grow weaker in response, his body slumping forward more and more. He knew he’d taken more than a pint already, but with each dragging minute Viktor found it harder to pull away, his mouth only clamping tighter over Yuuri’s flesh each time he tried to move.

A soft touch to the back of his head yanked him back out to reality. Yuuri’s fingers played with his hair as he was sucked dry, his eyes barely able to keep open.

The sight prompted Viktor to tear himself away, giving one last suck before finally letting his fangs whisper out of the punctures they made. He lapped at the puncture wounds to help the healing, watching with satisfaction as Yuuri’s skin was left with only two faint wounds and a blooming bruise, one that resembled a hickey more than anything.

“ _Haaaaah,_ ” The Japanese man let out a long sigh, his body slumping down Viktor’s torso. Viktor did his best to ignore the warmth of his chest through their clothes. “Mm…that was…”

Viktor chuckled. “Good, I hope.”

With the fresh blood in his system Viktor felt the symptoms of his hunger melt away, his limbs loosening and the piercing pain behind his eyes lessening. Only fresh blood could do that. If it’d been the bagged kind it would’ve taken longer for the sickness to fade, might’ve even fought to stay out of his system if his hunger had run on even further.  

Feeling just how soft and limp he’d gotten, Viktor gathered Yuuri up into his arms. With a small push, he maneuvered him into slumping up against the back of the couch. “Does Yurio have any sweet drinks in the fridge? Like fruit juice or something.”

“He likes Yakult.” Yuuri hummed. “There’s probably some left.”

Yuuri nodded weakly in the direction of the fridge. As he dozed, Viktor made his way to the kitchen and picked out two of the small containers. He handed one to Yuuri. “Drink that one first.”

A slow second stretched between them, Yuuri blankly staring at Viktor’s outstretched hand before he finally reached out and opened the bottle. He fiddled with the seal a bit, to the point Viktor was afraid he’d spill it all over himself, but in the end he managed it just fine. Viktor watched him down the first bottle before he handed him the second, which he opened and drank much quicker.

Viktor tossed the bottles into the trash, settling in beside Yuuri on the couch.

If it were any other one-night stand he’d already be heading home, his partner for the night well-hydrated after his feed and high off the special cocktail of chemicals his fangs secreted. But the second he sat down Yuuri draped himself over him, soft black hair tickling his cheek. As he settled back into the couch pillows the younger man adjusted above him, finally settling with their chests pressed flush together and legs entangled.

Viktor closed his eyes, ignoring when he felt Yuuri wriggle a bit in his arms. A few words were muffled into his shirt, rendering them unintelligible. “Hm? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“How…Um, was it good for you too?”

Yuuri wriggled again before looking up to meet is eyes. They were the slightest bit unfocused now, eyelashes batting slowly as he regarded Viktor.

Viktor’s face prickled with heat, his face reddening. He buried his face in Yuuri’s hair; a blush didn’t suit him, the warmth making his usually pale skin an ugly, blotchy shade of red. “You were delicious.”

“Hey,” Yuuri grumbled. He twisted his face up. “I want to see your face.”

“No need,” Viktor said.

Hands held onto either side of his head. They gently maneuvered him to look down, Viktor letting himself be led to meet Yuuri’s gaze. He stared down at the younger man petulantly. His face was still hot. “Take off your glasses.”

“I like looking at you.” Yuuri replied.

Their lips met, and when Yuuri pulled away he folded up the arms of his glasses and placed them on the coffee table. The action meant he had to lean back, neck twisting to the side so he could see behind him. Viktor took one look at the pulse point at the side of his neck before he buried his face there.

Yuuri burst into surprised laughter, his voice quickly smothered into uneven giggles. “ _Viktor!”_

Viktor littered open-mouthed kisses down his neck and over his clavicle, fingers hooking into the neckline of his sweater. The material stretched to accommodate his ministrations and Yuuri arched into his touch. Skittering fingers found the hem of his own shirt.

He pulled away just enough for Yuuri to pull off his shirt. In the millisecond before he leaned back over Yuuri let his eyes roam, eyes catching on the redness that tinged Viktor’s chest. “Cute,” He breathed.

“You’re the cute one.”

The younger man shook his head. One of his hands came up to tweak at Viktor’s nipple, his fingers already warm even though it had been less than an hour since Viktor had fed off him. The action elicited a shudder from the older man.

Yuuri flatted his palms over Viktor’s chest, caressing over the skin. They pushed a few minutes later, knocking Viktor onto his back. Yuuri leaner over him now, knees on either side of Viktor’s hips and his lithe arms caging him in.

His sweats were easy enough to pull down, Viktor tugging them down to rest around Yuuri’s hips. A shuddery breath left his lips and Viktor cupped at his penis, already hot and half-hard. Apparently his underwear had been pulled down with his pants. Viktor felt the weight in his hand grow heavier as they made out, Yuuri’s breaths coming out short and fast.

Wetness beaded at the tip and Viktor dragged his palm over the head of Yuuri’s cock, gathering the precum and making Yuuri gasp beautifully. With his hand slicked up it was easier to jerk Yuuri off, the slide of his hand along Yuuri’s erection slick and smooth.

He felt Yuuri fumble with his jeans before he seemed to give up and settled for opening the button and fly, coaxing Viktor’s own erection out with his fingers. Viktor hissed when the metallic teeth of his zip bit at the thin skin of his shaft. Yuuri leaned down and kissed the side of his cock, tongue laving at the sore spot until Viktor was shivering. He had a hand cupping at Viktor’s balls, periodically squeezing while his other hand pinched at Viktor’s nipple.

“Yu- _Yuuuuri_ ,” Viktor dragged out the younger man’s name, his fingers shaking as they continued to pump at his erection. He’d leaned over to better reach Yuuri’s cock, Yuuri’s mouth still working at his lap. Precum had started to dribble out of Yuuri almost continuously, Viktor dragging his thumb over the tip with each upstroke to gather more slick. The sound his hand made as it jerked the other man off was sinful, wet slapping against wet.

Yuuri was suckling at his tip, tongue flat under the head. Viktor couldn’t see him, but felt as Yuuri hollowed his cheeks and sucked more of him in, head bobbing over his length. His sweater had ridden up through their activities and now Viktor tugged it down further, revealing the pretty knobs of Yuuri’s spine.

Viktor licked down his back, tasting the salt of Yuuri’s skin and nearly drowning in his scent. A knot was already twisting at the base of his belly, his breaths rough even to his own ears.

Yuuri’s thighs were shaking.

It was almost an afterthought that Viktor bring his free hand between them to catch Yuuri’s semen as he came, Viktor’s hand moving over his length still. Yuuri whimpered with oversensitivity against his thigh and he stopped, spilling into Yuuri’s mouth. He felt a final spurt come out when Yuuri’s mouth had already left him, and he hoped it hadn’t gotten onto the couch.

They both righted themselves, Viktor sitting up to watch as Yuuri stretched his neck and flexed his back, skin shiny with sweat. If he hadn’t just come he was certain that would’ve gotten him hard again.

“Here,” Yuuri’s voice was rough. “I’ll wipe it off.”

He held onto the edge of his sweater, pulling it up to wipe at the cum on Viktor’s hand. Before he could, Viktor popped his thumb into his mouth and sucked, followed by his pointer finger, all the way to his pinky and his palm, where most of Yuuri’s cum was. The younger man let go of his shirt.

“I told you,” Viktor told him. “You’re delicious.”

Apparently, his last spurt of cum hadn’t landed on the couch, but on Yuuri’s face, a smear of white on the corner of his mouth. Yuuri’s eyes darkened at his words, hands brushing his shoulders.

The heat was quickly leaving him and with the cool sweat on his skin it meant goosebumps rose over his arms. But as Viktor watched Yuuri slowly lick the corner of his mouth clean he knew they weren’t from the cold.

“I think you taste pretty good too, Viktor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's all pray i can finish up the last chapter before the year ends   
> btw comments and kudos make my day and help me write faster!!

**Author's Note:**

> i've got a college entrance exam on sunday so next chapter will probably come by next week


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